THE    SHORT   LINE  WAR 


THE 


SHORT  LINE  WAR 


BY 

MERWI N-WEBSTER 


Wefo  gotfe 
THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1909 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotypcd  April,  1899.      Reprinted  May, 
twice,  September,  1899;  March,  1905 ;  July,  1909. 


Nortoooto 
J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  <c  Smith 
Norwood  Man.  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.    JIM  WEEKS i 

II.  MR.   MCNALLY   GOES  TO   TlLLMAN  ClTY  .         l6 

III.  POLITICS  AND  OTHER  THINGS  ...      31 

IV.  JIM  WEEKS  CLOSES  IN     .        .        .        .47 
V.    TUESDAY  EVENING 60 

VI.    JUDGE  BLACK 74 

VII.  BETWEEN  THE  LINES        ....      88 

VIII.    JUDGE  GREY 101 

IX.  THE  MATTER  OF  POSSESSION  .        «        .     114 

X.  SOMEBODY  LOSES  THE  BOOKS  .        .        .128 

XL    A  POLITICIAN 142 

XII.    KATHERINE 156 

XIII.  TRAIN  No.  14  .        .        .        „        .        .171 

XIV.  A  CAPTURE  AT  BRUSHINGHAM         .        .187 
XV.    DEUS  EX  MACHINA 202 

XVI.  MCNALLY'S  EXPEDIENT    ....    214 

XVII.    IN  THE  DARK 229 

XVIII.  THE  COMING  OF  DAWN    .        .        .        .244 

V 

r? 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XIX.  KATHERINE  DECIDES  ....  259 

XX.  HARVEY 277 

XXI.  THE  TILLMAN  CITY  STOCK     .        .        .  296 

XXII.  THE  WINNING  OF  THE  ROAD  .        .        .310 

XXIII.  THE  SURRENDER 322 


THE  SHORT  LINE  WAR 

CHAPTER   I 

JIM   WEEKS 

JAMES  WEEKS  came  of  a  fighting  stock. 

His  great-grandfather,  Ashbel  Weeks,  was 
born  in  Connecticut  in  1748;  he  migrated  to 
New  York  in  '70,  and  settled  among  the  Oneida 
Indians  on  the  Upper  Mohawk.  It  was  the 
kind  of  life  he  was  built  for ;  he  sniffed  at  dan- 
ger like  a  young  horse  catching  a  breath  off  the 
meadows.  He  did  not  take  the  war  fever  until 
St.  Leger  came  up  the  valley,  when  he  fought 
beside  Herkimer  in  the  ambush  on  Oriskany 
Creek.  He  joined  the  army  of  the  North,  and 
remained  with  it  through  the  long  three  years 
that  ended  at  Yorktown ;  then  he  married,  and 
returned  to  his  home  among  the  half-civilized 
Oneidas. 

His  oldest  son,  Jonathan,  was  born  in  '90. 
He  grew  like  his  father  in  physique  and  tern- 


2  The  Short  Line    War 

perameftt,  .arid  his  migrating  disposition  led  him 
to  Kentucky.  The  commercial  instinct,  which 
had  never  appeared  in  his  father,  was  strong 
in  him,  so  that  he  turned  naturally  to  trading. 
He  began  in  a  small  way,  but  he  succeeded  at 
it,  and  amassed  what  was  then  considered  a 
large  fortune. 

In  1823  he  moved  to  Louisville,  and  inter- 
ested himself  in  promoting  the  steamboat  traffic 
on  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers.  As  the 
business  developed,  Jonathan  Weeks's  fortune 
grew  with  it.  His  only  son,  who  was  born  in 
1815,  was  sent  to  Harvard;  he  spent  a  very 
merry  four  years  there,  and  a  good  deal  of 
money.  He  fell  in  love  in  the  meantime,  and 
married  immediately  after  his  graduation.  Not 
many  months  after  his  marriage  he  was  killed 
by  the  accidental  discharge  of  a  rifle,  and, 
shortly  after  this,  his  widow  died  in  giving 
birth  to  a  son. 

The  care  of  the  child  devolved  entirely  upon 
Jonathan,  the  grandfather.  He  assumed  it 
gladly,  even  eagerly,  and  his  whole  existence 
soon  centred  about  the  boy,  and  James  —  for 
so  they  had  named  him  —  became  more  to  him 
than  his  son  had  ever  been.  It  grew  evident 


Jim    Weeks  3 

that  he  would  have  the  Weeks  build,  and,  by 
the  time  he  was  fifteen,  he  was  as  lean,  big- 
boned,  awkward  a  hobbledehoy  as  the  old  man 
could  wish.  His  grandfather's  wealth  did  not 
spoil  him  in  the  least ;  he  was  the  kind  of  a 
boy  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  spoil. 

He  had  no  fondness  for  books,  but  it  is  to 
be  doubted  if  that  was  much  of  a  grief  to  his 
grandfather.  He  was  good  at  mathematics,  — 
he  used  to  work  out  problems  for  fun,  —  and  an 
excellent  memory  for  certain  kinds  of  details 
enabled  him  to  master  geography  without  diffi- 
culty. The  great  passion  of  his  boyhood  was 
for  the  big,  roaring,  pounding  steamboats  that 
went  down  to  New  Orleans.  His  ambition,  like 
that  of  nearly  every  boy  who  lived  in  sight  of 
those  packets,  was  to  be  a  river  pilot,  and  he 
was  nearing  his  majority  before  he  outgrew  it. 

He  was  twenty-two  years  old  when  he  fell  in, 
love  with  Ethel  Harvey.  She  was  nineteen 
when  she  came  home  from  the  Eastern  school 
where  she  had  spent  the  past  five  years,  and  she 
burst  upon  Jim  in  the  first  glory  of  her  woman- 
hood. When  she  had  grown  an  old  woman  the 
young  girls  still  envied  her  beauty,  and  won- 
dered what  it  must  have  been  in  its  first  bloom. 


4  The  Short  Line   Wat 

Small  wonder  that  Jim  fell  in  love  with  her ;  it 
was  inevitable. 

He  first  saw  her,  after  her  return,  on  a 
bright  June  morning  as  he  was  strolling  down 
the  path  from  his  grandfather's  house  to  the 
street.  She  was  riding  her  big  bay  mare  at  a 
smart  gallop,  but  she  pulled  up  short  at  sight  of 
him,  and  drawing  off  a  riding  gauntlet  held  out 
her  hand.  From  that  moment  Jim  loved  her. 
The  old  man  was  coming  down  the  path,  but 
seeing  them  there  together,  he  paused,  for  they 
made  a  striking  picture.  Her  little  silk  hat  sat 
daintily  on  her  hair,  which  would  be  rebellious 
and  fluffy ;  the  dark  green  riding  habit  with  its 
tight  sleeves  revealed  the  perfect  lines  of  her 
lithe  figure,  which  swayed  gracefully  as  the 
mare  pawed  and  backed  and  plunged,  impatient 
for  the  morning  gallop.  She  seemed  quite  in- 
different to  the  protests  of  the  big  brute,  and 
talked  merrily  to  Jim,  who  stood  looking  up  at 
her  in  bewildered  admiration.  At  last  she 
shook  hands  again  and  rode  away,  and  Jona- 
than Weeks  walked  back  into  the  house  with  a 
satisfied  smile.  "  They'll  do,"  he  said. 

It  looked  as  though  they  would.  Through 
the  short  happy  weeks  that  followed,  Ethel  did 


Jim    Weeks  5 

not  ride  alone.  Together  they  explored  thd 
country  lanes  or  left  them  for  a  dash  straight 
across  the  fields,  taking  anything  that  chanced 
to  be  in  the  way.  In  their  impromptu  races, 
which  were  frequent,  Ethel  almost  always  won ; 
for  racer  though  he  was,  Jim's  sorrel  found  the 
two  hundred  and  eight  pounds  he  carried  too 
much  of  a  handicap.  So  the  days  went  by,  and 
though  nothing  was  said  about  it,  they  talked 
to  each  other,  and  thought  of  each  other,  as 
lovers  do. 

But  all  the  while  there  was  growing  in 
Ethel's  mind  an  intuition  that  something  was 
wrong.  She  had  not  an  analytical  mind,  but 
she  became  convinced  that  though  she  might 
learn  to  understand  Jim,  he  could  never  under- 
stand her.  It  was  not  only  that  she  was  the 
first  woman  who  had  come  into  his  life,  though 
that  had  much  to  do  with  it.  But  he  was  a 
man  without  much  instinct  or  imagination ;  he 
took  everything  seriously  and  literally,  he  could 
not  understand  a  whim.  And  when  she  saw 
how  her  pretty  feminine  inconsistencies  puzzled 
him,  and  how  he  failed  to  understand  the  whim- 
sical, butterfly  fancies  she  confided  to  him, 
she  would  cry  with  vexation,  and  think  she 


6  The  Short  Line   War 

hated  him;  but  then  the  knightly  devotion  of 
his  big  heart  would  win  her  back  again,  and  her 
tears  would  cease  to  burn  her  cheeks,  and  she 
would  tell  herself  how  unworthy  she  was  of  the 
love  of  a  man  like  that.  But  the  trouble  was 
still  there ;  Ethel  grew  sad,  and  Jim,  more  than 
ever,  failed  to  understand.  The  old  man 
watched,  but  said  nothing. 

One  evening  Jim  took  her  out  on  the 
river.  It  was  the  summer  of  '61,  when  the 
North  was  learning  how  bitter  was  the  task  it 
had  to  accomplish.  Kentucky  was  disputed 
ground  and  feeling  ran  high  there;  little  else 
was  thought  of.  Jim  had  been  talking  to  her 
for  some  time  on  this  all-absorbing  topic  while 
she  sat  silent  in  the  stern,  her  hand  trailing  in 
the  water.  Finally  he  asked  why  she  was  so 
quiet. 

"I  think  this  war  is  very  stupid,"  she  said. 
"  Let's  talk  about "  —  here  she  paused  and  her 
eyes  followed  the  big  night  boat  which  was 
churning  its  way  down  the  river — "about 
paddle-wheels,  or  port  lights,  or  something/' 

Jim  said  nothing;  he  had  nothing  to  say. 
She  went  on :  — 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  tiresome  to  always  mean 


Jim    Weeks  J 

what  you  say  ?  I  hate  to  tell  the  truth.  Any- 
body can  do  that." 

"  I  thought/'  said  Jim,  "  that  you  believed  in 
sincerity." 

"Oh,  of  course  I  do,"  she  exclaimed  impa- 
tiently, and  again  Jim  was  silent. 

The  next  day  he  took  her  for  a  drive  and  it 
was  then  that  the  end  came.  They  had  been 
having  a  glorious  time,  for  the  rapid  motion  and 
the  bright  sunshine  had  driven  away  her  mood 
of  the  night  before  and  she  was  perfectly 
happy ;  Jim  was  happy  in  her  happiness.  The 
half -broken  colts  were  fairly  steady  and  he  let 
her  drive  them  and  turned  in  his  seat  so  that  he 
could  watch  her.  As  he  looked  at  her  there, 
her  head  erect,  her  elbows  squared,  her  bright 
eyes  looking  straight  out  ahead,  Jim  fell  deeper 
than  ever  in  love  with  her.  The  colts  felt  a 
new  and  unrestraining  hand  on  the  reins,  and 
the  pace  increased  rapidly.  Jim  noted  it. 

"You'd  better  pull  up  a  little/'  he  said. 
"They'll  be  getting  away  from  you." 

"  I  love  to  go  this  way,"  she  replied,  and  over 
the  reins  she  told  the  colts  the  same  thing,  in 
a  language  they  understood.  Suddenly  one  of 
them  broke,  and  in  a  second  both  were  running. 


8  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Pull  'em  in,"  said  Jim,  sharply.  "  Here  — 
give  me  the  reins." 

"I  can  hold  them,"  she  protested  wilfully. 
Then,  without  hesitation  and  with  perfectly  un- 
conscious brutality,  Jim  tore  the  reins  out  of  her 
hands,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  task  of  quiet- 
ing the  horses. 

It  was  not  easy,  but  he  was  cool  and  strong, 
and  the  horses  knew  he  was  their  master ;  never- 
theless it  was  several  minutes  before  he  had 
them  on  their  legs  again.  During  that  time 
neither  had  spoken  ;  then  Jim  waited  for  her  to 
break  the  silence.  He  was  somewhat  vexed,  for 
he  thought  she  had  deliberately  exposed  herself 
to  an  unnecessary  peril.  But  she  said  nothing 
and  they  finished  their  drive  in  silence. 

At  her  door  he  sprang  out  to  help  her  to 
alight,  but  she  ignored  his  offered  aid.  Though 
she  turned  away  he  saw  that  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Ethel,"  he  said  softly,  but  she  faced  him  in 
a  flash  of  anger. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me.     Oh  —  how  I  hate  you  ! " 

Jim  seemed  suddenly  to  grow  bigger.  "  Will 
you  please  tell  me  if  you  mean  that?"  he  said 
slowly. 


Jim   Weeks  g 

"I  mean  just  that/'  she  answered.  "I — I 
hate  you."  She  stood  still  a  moment;  then 
she  seemed  to  choke,  and  turning,  fled  into 
the  house. 

To  Jim's  mind  that  was  the  end  of  it.  She 
had  told  him  that  she  hated  him.  The  fact  that 
there  had  been  a  catch  in  her  voice  as  she  said 
it  weighed  not  at  all  with  him ;  that  was  an 
unknown  language.  So  he  took  her  literally  and 
exactly  and  went  away  by  himself  to  think  it 
over. 

He  was  late  for  dinner  that  night,  and  when 
he  came  in  his  grandfather  was  pacing  the 
dining  room.  But  Jim  wasted  no  words  in  ex- 
planation. 

"  Grandfather,"  he  said,  "  I  think  if  you  won't 
need  me  for  a  while  I'll  enlist  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  get  along  all  right,"  said  the  old  man, 
"but  I'm  sorry  you're  going." 

The  older  man  was  looking  at  the  younger  one 
narrowly.  Suddenly  and  bluntly  he  asked  :  — 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  you  and  Ethel 
Harvey?" 

Jim  nodded,  and  without  further  invitation 
or  questioning  he  related  the  whole  incident. 
"  That's  all  there  is  to  it,"  he  concluded.  "  The 


10  The  Short  Line   War 

team  had  bolted  and  she  wouldn't  give  me  the 
reins ;  so  I  took  them  away  from  her  and  pulled 
in  the  horses.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do." 

"And  then  she  said  she  hated  you/'  added 
Jonathan,  musingly.  "I  reckon  she  hasn't 
much  sense." 

"  It  ain't  that,"  Jim  answered  quickly.  "  She's 
got  sense  enough.  The  trouble  with  her  is  she's 
too  damned  plucky." 

A  few  days  later  he  was  a  private  in  the 
Nineteenth  Indiana  Volunteers.  He  made  a 
good  soldier,  for  not  only  did  he  love  danger  as 
had  his  great-grandfather  before  him,  but  he 
had  nerves  which  months  of  inaction  could  not 
set  jangling,  and  a  constitution  which  hardship 
and  privation  could  not  undermine. 

The  keenest  delight  he  had  ever  known  came 
with  his  first  experience  under  fire.  He  felt  his 
breath  coming  in  long  deep  inhalations ;  he  could 
think  faster  and  more  clearly  than  at  other  times, 
and  he  knew  that  his  hands  were  steady  and  his 
aim  was  good.  Somehow  it  seemed  that  years 
of  life  were  crowded  into  those  few  minutes, 
and  he  retired  reluctantly  when  the  order  came. 

His  regiment  was  in  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, and  the  story  of  its  waiting  and  blundering 


Jim    Weeks  II 

and  magnificent  fighting  need  not  be  told  again 
in  these  pages.  Jim  was  one  of  thousands  of 
brave,  intelligent  fighters  who  did  not  rise  to 
the  command  of  a  division  or  even  of  a  regi- 
ment. He  was  a  lieutenant  in  Company  E 
when  the  Nineteenth  marched  down  the  Em- 
mittsburg  Pike,  through  Gettysburg  and  out  to 
the  ridge  beyond,  to  hold  it  until  reinforcements 
should  come. 

They  fought  there  during  four  long  hours, 
until  the  thin  line  of  blue  could  hold  no  longer, 
and  gray  ranks  under  Ewell  and  Fender  had 
enveloped  both  flanks.  Then  sullenly  they 
came  back  through  the  town,  still  firing  defi- 
antly, and  cursing  the  help  that  had  not  come. 
It  was  during  this  retreat  that  Jim  was  hit,  but 
he  did  not  drop.  Somehow  —  though  as  in  a 
dream  —  he  kept  with  his  regiment,  and  it  was 
not  until  they  were  rallied  in  the  cemetery  on 
the  other  side  of  the  town  that  he  pitched  for- 
ward and  lay  quite  still. 

Everybody  knows  how  the  Eleventh  Corps 
held  the  cemetery  through  the  two  bloody  days 
that  followed.  But  Jim  was  unconscious  of  it 
all,  for  he  lay  on  a  cot  in  the  Sanitary  Commis- 
sion tent,  raving  in  delirium.  And  the  surgeons 


12  The  Short  Line   War 

and  nurses  looked  at  him  gravely  and  wondered 
with  every  hour  why  he  did  not  die. 

But,  as  one  of  his  comrades  had  said,  "  it  took 
a  lot  of  pounding  to  lick  Jim  Weeks/'  and  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time  he  was  strong  enough  to 
be  taken  home. 

When  he  first  saw  his  grandfather  he  was 
dimly  conscious  of  a  change  in  him,  and  as 
he  grew  stronger  and  better  able  to  observe 
closely  he  became  surer  of  it.  Jonathan  had 
been  a  young  old  man  when  Jim  went  away ; 
now  he  looked  every  one  of  his  seventy-three 
years,  and  instead  of  the  tireless  energy  of  former 
times  Jim  noted  a  listlessness  hard  to  understand. 

One  night  after  both  had  gone  to  bed  Jim 
heard  his  grandfather  groping  his  way  down  the 
stairs  and  out  upon  the  veranda.  He  listened 
intently  until  he  heard  the  creak  of  the  rock- 
ing chair,  which  told  him  that  the  old  man  was 
visiting  again  with  old  friends  and  old  fancies. 
The  slow  rhythm  lulled  Jim  into  a  doze,  and 
then  into  sleep.  He  awakened  with  a  start; 
his  pioneer  blood  made  him  a  light  sleeper,  and 
he  knew  that  the  old  man  could  not  have  got 
upstairs  and  past  his  door  without  waking  him. 
"  He  must  have  gone  to  sleep  down  there," 


Jim    Weeks  13 

thought  Jim,  and  rising  he  went  down  to  the 
veranda.  Jonathan  had  gone  to  sleep,  but  the 
black  cob  pipe  was  clenched  between  rigid  jaws ; 
his  sightless  eyes  were  open  and  seemed  to  be 
looking  at  the  stars. 

At  first  Jim  felt  that  sails,  helm,  and  compass 
had  been  swept  clean  away,  but  he  was  strong 
enough  to  recover  his  bearings  quickly.  His 
grandfather's  death  marked  an  end  and  a  begin* 
ning,  and  just  as  a  needle  when  a  magnet  is 
taken  away  swings  unerringly  into  the  line  of 
force  of  the  original  magnet,  the  earth,  so  Jim's 
life  swung  to  a  new  direction.  There  was  no 
one  whose  life  could  direct  or  influence  his,  and 
alone  he  started  on  what  business  men  of  the 
next  generation  knew  as  his  career. 

The  war  had  lessened  but  not  destroyed 
Jonathan's  fortune,  and  it  went  without  reserva- 
tion to  Jim.  The  times  offered  golden  opportu- 
nities to  a  man  with  ready  money  and  good 
business  training,  and  his  success  was  almost 
inevitable.  His  life  from  this  time  was  the 
logical  working  out  of  what  he  had  in  him. 

He  turned  naturally  to  the  railroad  business, 
and  those  who  know  the  history  of  Western 
railroads  from  '65  to  '90  will  understand  what 


14  The  Short  Line   War 

a  field  it  was  for  a  man  who  was  at  once  fearless 
and  level-headed.  The  craze  for  construction 
and  then  the  equally  mad  competition  did  not 
confuse  him,  they  simply  gave  him  opportunities. 
When  the  reaction  against  the  railroads  set  in, 
and  the  Granger  movement  wrecked  nearly  all 
the  Western  roads,  Jim  bowed  to  the  inevitable, 
but  he  saved  himself  —  no  one  knew  just  how  — 
and  when  the  State  legislators  were  over  their 
midsummer  madness  he  was  again  in  the  field, 
and  again  succeeding. 

With  the  details  of  these  struggles  we  are 
not  concerned.  The  "  inside  "  history  of  many 
of  them  will  never  be  known ;  in  almost  every 
case  it  differs  materially  from  the  story  which 
appeared  in  the  papers.  Jim  became  famous 
and  was  libelled  and  flattered,  respected  and 
abused,  by  turns ;  but  always  he  was  feared. 
He  was  supposed  to  be  dishonest,  and  it  is  true 
he  did  not  scruple  to  use  his  enemies'  weapons ; 
but  at  directors*  meetings  it  was  the  interest  of 
the  stockholders  that  he  fought  for. 

Men  wondered  at  his  success,  and  over  their 
cigars  gravely  discussed  the  reasons  for  it. 
Some  said  it  was  sheer  good  luck  that  turned 
what  he  touched  to  gold,  some  laid  it  to  his 


Jim    Weeks  1 5 

start,  and  others  to  his  cool,  dispassionate 
strategy.  To  some  extent  it  was  all  of  these 
things;  but  more  than  anything  else  he  had 
won  as  a  bulldog  does,  by  hanging  on.  Often 
he  had  beaten  better  strategists  simply  by  keep- 
ing up  the  fight  when  by  all  the  rules  he  was 
beaten.  For  as  the  comrade  of  long  ago 
had  said,  "it  took  a  lot  of  pounding  to  lick 
Jim  Weeks." 


CHAPTER   II 

MR.    McNALLY   GOES   TO   TILLMAN   CITY 

IT  was  Monday  morning,  September  23d. 
The  telephone  bell  on  the  big  mahogany  desk 
rang  twice  before  Jim  Weeks  laid  down  the 
sheet  of  paper  he  was  scrutinizing  and  picked 
up  the  receiver. 

"Hello!  Oh,  that  you,  Fox  ?  Yes Yes. 

Hold  on !  Give  me  that  name  again.  Fred- 
erick McNally.  Dartmouth  Building,  did  you 
say  ?  Yes.  Thank  you.  Good-by." 

The  bell  tinkled  again  and  Jim  swung  round 
in  his  chair. 

There  was  another  desk  in  the  room,  where 
sat  a  young  man  busy  over  a  pile  of  letters. 
He  was  private  secretary  to  a  man  who  was 
president  of  one  railroad  and  director  in  others, 
and  his  life  was  not  easy.  The  letters  he  was 
working  over  were  with  one  exception  addressed 
to  the  Hon.  James  Weeks,  Washington  Build- 
ing, Chicago.  The  exception  was  a  pale  blue 
16 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       17 

note  addressed  to  Mr.  Harvey  West,  and  the 
young  man  had  put  that  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pile  and  was  working  down  to  it. 

The  elder  man  spoke.  "West,"  he  said, 
"  Fox  has  just  telephoned  me  that  he's  found 
out  who's  been  buying  M.  &  T.  stock.  It's 
Frederick  McNally ;  he's  in  the  Dartmouth 
Building.  He  isn't  doing  it  on  his  own  hook, 
but  I  don't  know  who  he  is  doing  it  for.  Some- 
body wants  that  stock  mighty  bad.  There 
isn't  a  great  deal  of  it  lying  around,  though." 

"  Do  you  think  that  Thompson — "  began  the 
secretary. 

"  Thompson  would  be  glad  to  see  me  out  and 
himself  in,"  said  Jim  Weeks,  "and  he  leads 
Wing  and  Powers  around  by  the  nose,  but  he 
can't  swing  enough  stock  to  hurt  anything  at 
next  election.  I  don't  believe  it's  he  that's  buy- 
ing. Thompson  hasn't  got  sand  enough  for 
that.  He'll  never  fight." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Jim  walked 
over  to  the  ticker  and  looked  back  along  the 
ribbon  of  paper.  "  It's  quoted  at  68^  this  morn- 
ing," he  said,  "  but  no  sales  to  amount  to  any- 
thing." 

"You  might  go  over  and  talk  to  Wing,"  he 
c 


1 8  The  Short  Line   War 

went  on.  "You  can  find  out  anything  he 
knows  if  you  go  at  it  right.  I  don't  believe 
there's  anything  there.  However,  I'd  like  to 
know  just  what  they  are  doing.  You'd  better 
do  it  now.  Send  Pease  in  when  you  go  out, 
will  you?" 

Harvey  slipped  the  blue  envelope  from  the 
bottom  of  the  pile  of  letters,  called  the  stenog- 
rapher, and  started  out.  He  read  the  note 
while  he  was  waiting  for  the  elevator. 

The  M.  &  T.  is  a  local  single-track  road, 
about  two  hundred  miles  long,  running  between 
the  cities  of  Manchester  and  Truesdale.  The 
former  is  on  the  main  line  of  the  Northern,  and 
the  latter  on  the  C.  &  S.  C,  both  of  which  are 
trunk  lines  from  Chicago  to  the  West.  The 
M.  &  T.  was  not  a  money-making  affair ;  it  had 
cost  a  lot  of  money,  its  stock  was  away  down, 
and  it  trembled  on  the  brink  of  insolvency  until 
Jim  Weeks  took  hold  of  it.  He  put  money  into 
it,  straightened  out  its  tangled  affairs,  and  inci- 
dentally made  some  enemies  in  the  board  of 
directors.  There  were  coal  mines  on  the  line 
near  Sawyerville,  which  were  operated  in  a  des- 
ultory way,  but  they  never  amounted  to  much 
until  some  more  of  Jim  Weeks's  money  went 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       19 

into  them,  and  then  they  began  to  pay.  This 
made  the  M.  &  T.  important,  especially  to  the 
C.  &  S.  C.  people,  who  immediately  tried  to 
make  arrangements  with  Jim  for  the  absorption 
of  the  M.  &  T.  by  their  line.  C.  &  S.  C.  had  a 
bad  name.  There  were  many  shady  operations 
associated  with  its  management,  and  Jim  de- 
cided to  have  as  little  to  do  with  it  as  possible, 
so  the  attempt  apparently  was  abandoned. 

The  stock  of  the  M.  &  T.  was  held  largely 
by  men  who  lived  along  the  line  of  the  road. 
Tillman  City  and  St.  Johns  each  held  large 
blocks;  they  had  got  a  special  act  of  legisla- 
ture to  allow  them  to  subscribe  for  it.  These 
stockholders  had  great  confidence  in  Jim,  for 
under  his  management  their  investment  was 
beginning  to  pay,  and  they,  he  felt  sure,  ap- 
proved of  his  action  in  the  C.  &  S.  C.  matter. 

Everything  was  going  well  with  the  road, 
and  the  stock  was  climbing  slowly  but  steadily. 
It  was  not  liable  to  any  great  fluctuation,  for 
most  of  its  holders  regarded  it  as  a  permanent 
investment  and  it  did  not  change  hands  to  any 
great  extent.  Comparatively  little  of  it  got 
into  the  hands  of  speculators. 

But  suddenly  it  began  to  jump.     It  was  evi- 


20  The  Short  Line   War 

dent  to  every  one  who  watched  it  that  some 
important  deal  was  afoot  Jim  Weeks  was  as 
much  in  the  dark  as  any  one.  He  had  watched 
its  violent  fluctuations  for  a  week  while  he 
vainly  sought  to  ferret  out  the  motive  that  was 
causing  them.  And  on  this  particular  morn- 
ing, though  he  sent  his  secretary,  Harvey  West, 
to  talk  to  Wing,  he  had  little  idea  that  the 
young  fellow  would  get  hold  of  a  clew. 

When  the  elevator  stopped  at  the  main  floor, 
Harvey  thrust  the  half -read  note  back  into  his 
pocket.  "No  time  for  that  sort  of  thing  this 
morning/'  he  thought.  "I  wonder  how  soon  I'll 
be  able  to  run  down  to  see  her."  A  moment  later 
he  was  walking  rapidly  toward  the  Dartmouth. 

The  men  he  saw  and  nodded  to  glanced  round 
at  him  enviously.  "  Case  of  luck,"  growled 
somebody.  That  was  true.  Harvey  was  lucky ; 
lucky  first  and  foremost  in  that  Ethel  Harvey 
was  his  mother.  He  got  his  mental  agility  as 
well  as  his  indomitable  cheeriness  from  her. 
He  was  a  healthy,  sane  young  fellow  who 
found  it  easy  to  work  hard,  who  could  loaf  most 
enjoyably  when  loafing  was  in  order,  and  who 
had  the  knack  of  seeing  the  humorous  side  of 
a  trying  situation.  He  had  always  had  plenty 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       21 

of  money,  but  that  was  not  the  reason  he  got 
more  fun  out  of  his  four  years  in  college  than 
any  other  man  in  his  class.  He  "  got  down  to 
business "  very  quickly  after  his  graduation, 
and  now  at  the  end  of  another  four  years  he 
was  private  secretary  to  Jim  Weeks.  That  of 
course  wasn't  luck.  The  fact  that  Jim  had 
fallen  in  love  with  Ethel  Harvey  thirty  years 
before  might  account  for  his  friendly  interest 
in  her  son,  but  it  would  not  explain  Harvey's 
position  of  trust.  He  knew  that  he  could  not 
hold  it  a  day  except  by  continuing  to  be  the 
most  available  man  for  the  place. 

It  is  probable  that  on  this  morning,  the 
contents  of  the  pale  blue  note  contributed 
largely  to  his  cheerfulness.  It  was  evident 
that  Miss  Porter  liked  him,  and  Harvey  liked 
to  be  liked. 

Wing's  office  on  the  sixth  floor  of  the  Dart- 
mouth was  a  beautifully  furnished  suite,  pre- 
sided over  by  a  boy  in  cut-steel  buttons.  Wing 
himself  was  a  dapper  little  man,  a  capitalist  by 
necessity  only,  for  his  money  had  been  left  to 
him.  His  one  ambition  was  to  collect  all  the 
literature  in  all  languages  on  the  game  of 
chess;  a  game  by  the  way  which  he  himself 


22  The  Short  Line    War 

did  not  play.  "  Mr.  Wing  had  gone  out  to 
lunch  about  an  hour  before,"  said  the  boy  in 
buttons.  "Would  Mr.  West  wait?"  Harvey, 
who  knew  Mr.  Wing's  luncheons  of  old,  said 
no,  but  he  would  call  again  in  the  afternoon. 
As  he  walked  back  to  the  elevator  .his  eye 
fell  upon  another  office  door  which  bore  the 
freshly  painted  legend,  "Frederick  McNally, 
Attorney-at-la  w. ' ' 

Harvey  lunched  at  the  Cafe  Lyon,  which  is 
across  the  street  from  the  main  entrance  to 
the  Dartmouth.  The  day  was  warm  for  late 
September,  and  he  selected  a  seat  just  inside 
the  open  door.  From  his  table  he  could  see 
people  hurrying  in  and  out  of  the  big  office 
building.  He  watched  the  crowd  idly  as  he 
waited  for  his  lunch,  and  finally  his  interest 
shifted  to  the  big  doors,  which  seemed  to  have 
something  human  about  them,  as  they  mali- 
ciously tried  to  catch  the  little  messenger  boys 
who  rushed  between  them  as  they  swung. 

Suddenly  his  attention  came  back  to  the 
crowd,  centring  on  a  party  of  four  men  who 
turned  into  the  great  entrance.  Three  of  them 
he  knew,  and  the  fact  that  they  were  together 
suggested  startling  possibilities.  They  were 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       23 

Wing,  Thompson  and  William  C.  Porter  of  Chi- 
cago and  Truesdale,  First  Vice-President  of  the 
C.  &  S.  C.  and,  this  was  the  way  Harvey 
thought  of  him,  father  of  the  Miss  Katherine 
Porter  whose  name  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
note  in  the  blue  envelope.  Thompson,  a  fat, 
flaccid  man  with  a  colorless  beard,  was  labori- 
ously holding  the  door  open  for  Mr.  Porter, 
then  he  preceded  little  Mr.  Wing.  The  fourth 
man  was  a  stranger  to  Harvey. 

He  was  starting  to  follow  them  when  the 
waiter  came  up  with  his  order.  That  made  him 
pause,  and  a  moment's  reflection  convinced  him 
that  he  had  better  wait.  He  decided  that  if  the 
meeting  of  Porter  with  the  two  M.  &  T.  direc- 
tors were  not  accidental  they  would  be  likely  to 
be  in  consultation  for  some  time,  and  he  would 
gain  more  by  inquiring  for  Mr.  Wing  at  the  ex- 
piration of  a  half  hour  than  by  doing  it  now. 
So  he  lunched  at  leisure  and  then  went  back  to 
the  sixth  floor  of  the  Dartmouth. 

He  was  met  by  a  rebuff  from  Buttons.  "  No, 
Mr.  Wing  had  not  come  back  yet,"  and  again 
"  Would  Mr.  West  wait  ? "  Harvey  could  think 
of  nothing  better  to  do,  so  he  sat  down  to  think 
the  matter  out.  He  was  puzzled,  for  the  three 


24  The  Short  Line   War 

men  were  in  the  building,  he  felt  sure.  Then  it 
came  to  him.  "  Jove,"  he  murmured,  "  Mc- 
Nally!  McNally  was  that  fourth  man/'  He 
sat  back  in  his  chair  and  tried  to  decide  what 
to  do. 

Meanwhile  four  men  sat  about  the  square 
polished  table  in  Mr.  McNally's  new  office  and 
anxiously  discussed  ways  and  means.  The 
scrappy  memoranda  and  what  appeared  to  be 
problems  in  addition  and  subtraction  littered 
about,  made  it  appear  that  some  ground  had 
been  pretty  thoroughly  gone  over.  There  was 
a  momentary  lull  in  the  conversation,  and  the 
silence  was  broken  only  by  the  tapping  of  Mr. 
Wing's  pencil  as  he  balanced  it  between  his 
fingers  and  let  the  point  rebound  on  the  top  of 
the  table.  There  really  seemed  to  be  nothing 
to  say.  The  alliance  between  C.  &  S.  C.  and 
Thompson's  faction  of  the  M.  &  T.  directors  had 
been  arranged  some  days  before.  They  had 
met  to-day  to  see  how  they  stood.  McNally 
told  what  he  had  done,  and  it  was  not  so  much 
as  they  had  hoped  he  would  be  able  to  do. 
The  combination  was  not  yet  strong  enough  to 
take  the  field.  For  the  past  twenty  minutes 
Thompson  had  been  leaning  over  the  table  mak- 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       25 

ing  suggestions  in  his  thick  voice,  and  McNally 
had  sat  back  and  quietly  annihilated  them  by 
demonstrating  their  impracticability,  or  by  stat- 
ing that  they  had  been  unsuccessfully  tried. 

Beyond  asking  one  or  two  incisive  questions 
of  McNally,  Porter  had  said  nothing,  but  had 
stared  straight  out  of  the  window.  For  the 
past  ten  minutes  he  had  been  waiting  for 
Thompson  to  run  down.  It  was  he  who  broke 
the  silence. 

"We're  stuck  fast"  —  he  was  speaking  very 
slowly — "unless  we  can  get  control  of  that 
Tillman  City  stock." 

McNally  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  I'm 
afraid  it's  no  good,"  he  said.  "  Look  what 
we've  offered  them  already.  They  think  the 
stock  is  going  to  go  on  booming  clear  up  to 
the  sky,  and  they  won't  sell.  We  couldn't  get 
it  at  par." 

Porter's  chair  shot  back  suddenly.  He  walked 
over  to  the  empty  fireplace,  the  other  men  watch- 
ing him  curiously.  He  spread  his  hands  behind 
him  mechanically  as  if  to  warm  them.  Then  he 
said :  — 

"  I  think  we  could  get  it  if  we  were  to  offer 
par." 


26  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Offer  par !  "  thundered  Thompson.  "  We 
could  get  Jim  Weeks's  holdings  by  paying  par." 

Porter  smiled  indulgently.  "I  didn't  say 
we'd  pay  par  for  anything.  But  I  think  if 
Mr.  McNally  were  to  sign  a  contract  to  pay 
par  the  day  after  the  M.  and  T.  election,  that 
he  could  vote  the  stock  on  election  day." 

McNally's  plump  hand  came  down  softly  on 
the  table.  "  Good  !  "  he  said  under  his  breath. 

But  Mr.  Thompson  failed  to  understand. 
"  But  the  contract  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Such  a  contract  would  be  a  little  less  valu- 
able than  that  waste  paper,"  Porter  replied 
politely,  indicating  the  crumpled  sheets  on  the 
table.  Then  he  turned  to  McNally  and  asked, 
"  How  many  men  will  it  take  to  swing  it  ?  " 

"  Three,  if  we  get  the  right  ones.  Yes,  I 
know  the  men  we  want.  I  can  get  them  all 
right,"  he  added,  in  response  to  the  unspoken 
question.  "It  will  need  a  little  —  oil,  though, 
for  the  wheels." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Porter,  dryly.  "  I  think 
you'd  better  get  at  it  right  away.  It's  two 
o'clock  now.  The  two-thirty  express  will  get 
you  to  Manchester  so  that  you  can  reach  Till- 
man  about  seven-thirty.  It  doesn't  pay  to  waste 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       27 

any  time  when  you're  trying  to  get  ahead  of  Jim 
Weeks.  He  moves  quick.  Have  you  got 
money  enough  ? " 

McNally  nodded. 

Thompson  had  come  to  the  surface  again. 
He  was  breathing  thickly,  and  his  high,  bald 
forehead  was  damp  with  perspiration.  "  That's 
bribery/'  he  said,  "and  it's  —  dangerous." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  can't  be  helped,  Mr.  Thomp- 
son," said  Porter.  "It's  neck  or  nothing. 
We've  got  to  have  that  Tillman  City  stock." 

There  were  but  four  people  in  the  room  when 
he  began  speaking.  There  were  five  when  he 
finished,  for  Harvey  West  had  grown  tired  of 
waiting.  He  bowed  politely. 

"  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen.  Ah  !  Mr.  Por- 
ter. How  do  you  do  ?  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
intruding." 

Porter  recovered  first.  "No  intrusion,  Mr. 
West.  We  had  just  finished  our  business." 

McNally  took  the  cue  quickly. 

"  Mr.  West  ? "  he  said  interrogatively. 

Harvey  bowed. 

"I  will  be  at  your  service  in  a  moment. 
Excuse  me." 

Wing  and  Thompson  had  already  taken  the 


28  The  Short  Line   War 

hint,  and  were  moving  toward  the  door.  Por- 
ter hung  back,  conversing  in  low  tones  with 
McNally.  Then  he  bowed  to  West  and  fol- 
lowed the  others.  McNally  gathered  up  the 
papers  on  the  table,  folded  them,  and  put  them 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Please  sit  down,  Mr.  West.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ?  Wait  a  moment,  though.  Won't  you 
smoke  ? "  He  held  out  his  cigar  case  to  Har- 
vey, who  took  one  gladly.  Lighting  it  would 
give  him  a  moment  more  to  think,  and  think- 
ing was  necessary,  for  he  didn't  know  what 
McNally  could  do  for  him.  But  McNally 
seemed  to  be  doing  his  best  to  help  him  out. 

"Don't  you  think  it  very  warm  here?"  he 
said,  as  Harvey  struck  a  match.  "Something 
cool  to  drink  would  go  pretty  well.  If  you'll 
excuse  me  for  a  moment  more  I'll  go  down  and 
see  about  getting  it,"  and  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  McNally  put  on  his  silk  hat  and  stepped 
out  into  the  corridor. 

"  He  certainly  seems  friendly, "  thought  Har- 
vey, as  the  footfalls  diminished  along  the  floor, 
and  then  he  puzzled  over  what  he  should  say 
when  McNally  came  back.  At  last  he  smiled. 
"That's  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I'll  try 


Mr.  McNally  goes  to  Tillman  City       29 

to  rent  him  that  vacant  suite  in  our  office 
building." 

When  West  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
party  of  four  were  not  to  meet  in -Wing's  office, 
he  had  decided  to  see  if  they  were  in  McNal- 
ly's.  He  could  not  ask  for  Wing,  of  course,  so 
he  asked  for  McNally  and  trusted  to  the  spur 
of  the  moment  for  a  pretext  for  his  call.  Now 
that  McNally's  absence  had  enabled  him  to 
think  of  one  he  took  a  long  breath  of  satisfac- 
tion. He  had  accomplished  what  he  had  set 
out  to  accomplish,  and  contrary  to  Jim  Weeks's 
expressed  expectation.  There  was  no  doubt 
that  it  was  a  combination  of  the  C.  &  S.  C.  and 
Thompson's  gang  that  was  booming  the  M.  &  T. 
Moreover  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  their  next 
move.  "  But  it  won't  work,"  he  thought.  "Jim 
owns  about  half  of  Tillman  City,  and  anyway 
they'll  never  sell  when  our  stock  is  jumping 
up  the  way  it  is." 

And  having  settled  this  important  matter  he 
switched  his  train  of  thought  off  on  another 
track.  It  reached  Truesdale  in  a  very  short 
time,  but  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  M.  &  T.,  or 
with  Mr.  McNally.  He  took  the  note  out  of 
his  pocket  and  read  it  through  twice,  and  then 


30  The  Short  Line   War 

smoked  over  it  comfortably  for  some  time 
before  he  began  vaguely  to  wonder  why  Mr. 
McNally  didn't  come  back.  Five  minutes  later 
he  glanced  at  his  cigar  ash.  It  was  an  inch 
and  a  half  long.  "That  means  twenty  min- 
utes," he  said  thoughtfully,  and  then  it  dawned 
on  him  that  things  had  happened  which  were 
not  down  on  the  schedule. 

He  walked  quickly  to  the  telephone,  and  a 
moment  later  Pease  was  talking  to  him. 

"No,"  said  the  stenographer;  "Mr.  Weeks 
went  out  to  lunch  about  an  hour  ago.  He  said 
he  wouldn't  be  back  to  the  office  this  after- 
noon." 

There  had  been  no  words  wasted  in  the  two 
minutes'  conversation  between  Porter  and  Mc- 
Nally after  Harvey's  abrupt  entrance,  and  as  a 
result  of  it,  while  the  young  secretary  waited 
and  thought  over  the  good  stroke  of  work  he 
had  done  for  Jim  Weeks  and  of  another  good 
stroke  he  might  some  day  do  for  himself,  Mr. 
Frederick  McNally  took  the  two-thirty  express 
for  Manchester  and  Tillman  City. 


CHAPTER   III 

POLITICS   AND    OTHER   THINGS 

HARVEY  WEST  was  a  young  man.  Perhaps 
had  he  been  older,  had  his  wisdom  been  salted 
with  experience,  he  would  not  have  put  two  and 
two  together  without  realizing  that  the  sum 
was  four ;  but  then,  it  is  the  difference  between 
twenty-six  and  fifty  that  makes  railroads  a 
possibility.  He  walked  slowly  to  the  elevator 
and  descended  to  the  street.  At  the  corner  he 
paused  and  looked  about,  turning  over  in  his 
mind  the  singular  disappearance  of  Mr.  Mc- 
Nally.  "  He  can't  do  anything  with  Tillman's 
stock,'*  thought  Harvey.  "They're  solid  for 
us."  But  Harvey  H^igfojef  business  life  ha.d 
not^fathomed  the  devious  ways  of  thejchronic  ,./ 
capitalist.  He  knew  that  commercial  honor 
was  honeycombed  with  corrupt  financiering, 
but  to  him  the  corrupt  side  was  more  or  less 
vague,  and  never  having  soiled  his  fingers  he  , 


32  The  Short  Line   War 

failed  to  realize  the  nearness  of  the  mud. 
Harvey  had  yet  to  learn  that  in  dealing  with  a 
municipality  or  with  a  legislature,  the  law  of 
success  has  but  two  prime  factors,  money  and 
speed. 

He  walked  slowly  over  Madison  Street  and 
turned  into  State.  Weeks  was  not  in  the  office, 
and  anyway  he  wished  to  clear  his  mind,  if 
possible,  before  he  talked  with  him ;  meanwhile 
sauntering  up  the  east  side  of  State  Street  with 
an  eye  for  the  shopping  throng.  People  in- 
terested Harvey.  He  was  fond  of  noting  types, 
and  of  watching  the  sandwich-men,  beggars, 
and  shoe-string  venders.  Often  at  noon  he 
would  walk  from  Randolph  Street  to  Harrison, 
observing  the  shifting  character  of  Chicago's 
great  thoroughfare.  To  Harvey  it  seemed  like 
a  river,  starting  clear  but  gradually  roiled  by 
the  smaller  streams  that  poured  in,  each  a 
little  muddier  than  the  one  next  north,  until  it 
was  clogged  and  stagnant  with  the  scum  of  the 
city.  But  to-day  he  was  going  north.  The 
sidewalk  was  crowded  with  eager  girls  and 
jaded  women,  keen  on  the  scent  of  bargains. 
These  amused  Harvey,  and  he  smiled  as  he 
crossed  Washington  Street,  A  moment  later 


Politics  and  Other  Things  33 

the  smile  brightened.  Miss  Porter  stood  on  the 
corner. 

"  Surprised  to  see  me  ? "  she  laughed.  "  Father 
came  up  unexpectedly  on  business,  and  I  tagged 
along  to  do  some  shopping.  Are  you  in  a 
hurry  ?  I  suppose  so.  You  men  never  lose  a 
chance  to  awe  us  with  the  value  of  your  time." 

"  No/1  Harvey  replied,  "  I'm  not  at  all  in  a 
hurry." 

"  Good,  then  you  can  help  me.  I  am  buying 
a  gown." 

They  went  into  Field*  s,  and  for  nearly  an  hour 
Harvey  "  helped."  It  did  not  take  him  long  to 
realize  that  nowhere  is  a  strong  man  more  help- 
less than  in  a  department  store.  He  went 
through  yards  of  samples,  fingered  dozens  of 
fabrics ;  he  discussed  and  suggested,  all  with  a 
critical  air  that  amused  Miss  Porter.  She  tried 
at  first  to  take  him  seriously,  but  finally  gave 
up,  leaned  against  the  counter  and  laughed. 

"  Suppose  we  go  up  to  the  waiting  room,"  she 
said.  "  You  can  talk,  anyway." 

With  a  smile  Harvey  assented,  and  they  seated 
themselves  near  the  railing,  where  they  could 
look  down  on  the  human  kaleidoscope  below. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Harvey,  after  they  had 


34  The  Short  Line   War 

chatted  for  some  time,  "  this  morning's  Tribune 
has  a  good  joke  on  one  of  your  Truesdale  neigh- 
bors. Did  you  see  it? " 

"  No.     Tell  me  about  it." 

"  Why,  it  seems  that  he  —  it  was  Judge  Black 
—  is  up  at  Waupaca.  He  went  there  in  a  hurry 
from  Lake  Geneva  to  get  away  from  some  cases 
that  were  following  him  and  spoiling  the  vaca- 
tion he's  been  trying  to  get  since  July.  He 
moved  so  quickly  that  his  trunk  left  him  and 
went  up  to  Minnesota  or  somewhere.  Well, 
the  Judge  was  asked  to  speak  at  an  entertain- 
ment the  first  night  at  the  hotel.  An  hour  or 
so  before  the  time  set  for  the  speech  he  fell  into 
the  lake  and  ruined  his  only  suit  of  clothes. 
There  wasn't  a  man  there  anywhere  near  his 
size,  so  he  appeared  before  the  guests  of  the 
Grand  View  Hotel  in  the  'bus  man's  overalls." 

Katherine  laughed  heartily. 

"  Father  will  enjoy  that,"  she  said.  "  He 
loves  to  laugh  at  Judge  Black."  And  she 
added,  "I  wonder  where  father  is." 

"  Do  you  return  to  Truesdale  to-day  ? "  Har- 
vey asked. 

"No.  Not  until  day  after  to-morrow.  We 
go  to  the  South  Side  to  dinner,  father  and  I. 


Politics  and  Other  Things  35 

Father  told  me  to  meet  him  here  at  half-past 
three." 

Harvey  drew  out  his  watch. 

"It  is  after  four  now." 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  little  worried.  Father  is  usually 
very  prompt.  He  had  to  see  some  men  about 
the  railroad,  but  he  said  it  wouldn't  take  him 
long.  I'm  afraid  something  has  happened." 

So  was  Harvey.  The  mention  of  Mr.  Porter 
brought  back  to  him  certain  peculiar  facts,  and 
for  a  moment  he  thought  fast.  Evidently  some- 
thing was  happening.  In  case  there  was  a 
chance  of  Tillman  City  wavering,  Jim  Weeks 
should  know  of  Porter's  activity  and  at  once. 
Harvey  rose  abruptly. 

"  Excuse  me.  I  find  I  have  forgotten  some 
work  at  the  office." 

"  Must  you  go  ?  I  am  sorry."  She  rose  and 
extended  her  hand.  "  I  shan't  be  at  home 
either  night  or  I'd  ask  you  to  come  and  see 
me.  But  you  are  coming  down  to  Truesdale 
soon,  remember." 

"Yes,"  said  Harvey.     "Good-by." 

He  walked  rapidly  to  the  Washington  Build- 
ing. Jim  had  left  no  word,  and  Harvey  called 
up  the  Ashland  Avenue  residence,  but  could 


36  The  Short  Line   War 

learn  nothing.  The  Northern  Station  mastei 
returned  a  similar  report :  Mr.  Weeks  had  not 
been  seen.  Harvey  sat  down  and  rested  his 
elbows  on  the  desk.  Already  it  might  be  too 
late.  He  called  to  mind  Jim's  business  arrange- 
ments, in  the  hope  of  striking  a  clew  by  chance. 
He  was  interrupted  by  a  few  callers,  whom  he 
disposed  of  with  a  rush  ;  and  he  was  closing 
his  desk  with  a  vague  idea  of  hunting  Jim  in 
person  when  he  was  called  to  the  'phone.  It 
was  the  station  master. 

"  I  was  mistaken,  Mr.  West,"  he  said.  "  Four- 
teen has  just  got  in  from  Manchester,  and  he 
says  he  took  Mr.  Weeks  out  at  noon." 

Harvey  rang  off  and  called  up  the  M.  &  T. 
terminal  station  at  Manchester. 

"  Hello.  This  is  Chicago.  Is  Mr.  Weeks 
there?" 

"Well— say,  hello!  Hold  on,  central!  — 
Will  you  call  him  to  the  'phone,  please  ? " 

"Why  not?" 

"Where?     At  the  shops?" 

"  Sorry,  but  I  guess  you'll  have  to  interrupt 
him.  Important  business." 

"  Can't  help  it  if  the  whole  road's  blocked. 
Get  him  as  quick  as  you  can  and  call  us  up. 
Good-by." 


Politics  and  Other  Things  37 

Harvey  waited  ten  minutes,  twenty,  thirty, 
thirty-five  —  then  the  bell  rang. 

'"  Hello !" 

"Yes." 

"  Not  there  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  minute.     You  say  he  took  the  4.30  ? " 

"All  right.     Good-by." 

Harvey  turned  back  to  his  desk  with  a  scowl. 
He  passed  the  next  hour  clearing  up  what  was 
left  of  the  day's  work ;  then  he  went  out  to  din- 
ner, and  at  6.45  met  Jim  Weeks  at  the  Northern 
Station. 

"  Hello,"  said  the  magnate,  "  what's  up  ?  " 

"  Porter  is,"  replied  Harvey.  "  I  cornered 
him  and  McNally  with  Thompson  and  Wing, 
and  I  think  McNally's  gone  after  the  Tillman 
stock." 

"I  guess  not,"  Jim  smiled  indulgently.  "They 
can't  touch  it.  Tell  me  what  you  know." 

Harvey  related  his  experience,  and  as  one 
detail  followed  another  Jim's  eyebrows  came 
together.  He  took  out  his  watch  and  looked 
at  it,  then  his  eye  swept  the  broad  row  of  trains 
in  the  gloomy,  barnlike  station.  The  hands  on 
the  three-sided  clock  pointed  to  seven,  and  the 
Northern  Vestibule  Limited  began  to  roll  out  on 


38  The  Short  Line   War 

its  run  to  Manchester  and  the  West.  Suddenly 
Jim  broke  in  :  — 

"  I'm  going  to  Tillman.     Back  to-morrow." 

He  ran  down  the  platform  and  swung  him- 
self, puffing,  upon  the  rear  steps  of  the  re- 
ceding train.  Harvey  stared  a  moment,  then 
slowly  walked  out  to  the  elevated.  He  had  not 
yet  learned  to  follow  the  rapid  working  of  Jim 
Weeks's  mind. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Porter  was  nervous. 
Being  unsuccessful  in  his  search  for  Weeks, 
and  seeing  the  possibility  of  failure  before  him, 
he  greeted  the  hour  of  five  with  a  frown ;  but 
he  realized  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done. 
McNally  was  on  the  field  and  must  fight  it 
out  alone.  It  was  a  quarter  after  five  when 
he  stepped  from  the  elevator  at  Field's, 
and  confronted  a  very  reproachful  young 
woman. 

"Sorry,  dear,  but  I  couldn't  get  away  any 
sooner." 

"  What  was  it,  dad  ?    That  old  railroad  ? " 

"  You  wouldn't  understand  it  if  I  told  you." 

Katherine  frowned  prettily. 

"That's  what  you  always  say.  Tell  me 
about  it." 


Politics  and  Other  Things  39 

"Well,  it  was  very  important  that  I  should 
see  a  man  before  he  saw  another  one." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ? " 

"  No,  I  couldn't  find  him/' 

"  Does  it  mean  a  loss  to  you,  dad  ? " 

"I  hope  not,  dear.    But  we  must  get  started." 

"  I  thought  you  never  would  come.  It  was 
lucky  that  I  had  company  part  of  the  time." 

"  That's  good.     Who  was  it  ? " 

"  Mr.  West." 

"Mr.  West?  — Not  Weeks's  man  — not  — " 

Katherine  nodded.  Her  father  looked  at  her 
puzzled ;  then  his  brow  slightly  relaxed,  and  he 
smiled.  "By  Jove!"  he  said  softly.  Katherine 
was  watching  him  in  some  surprise. 

"Katherine,  you  are  a  brick.  You  shall  have 
the  new  cart.  Yes,  sir.  I'll  order  it  to-morrow." 

"What  have  I  done?" 

"  You've  saved  the  day,  my  dear."  Suddenly 
he  frowned  again.  "Hold  on;  when  did  you 
see  him?" 

"  I  met  him  about  three.  I  guess  he  was 
here  an  hour  or  more." 

"Couldn't  be  better!  But  he  must  be  an 
awful  fool." 

Katherine  bit  her  lip. 


40  The  Short  Line   War 

"Why ? "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  If  he  had  seen  Weeks 
early  enough  they  might  have  upset  me.  He 
must  be  an  awful  fool." 

Katherine  followed  him  to  the  elevator  with 
a  peculiar  expression.  She  wondered  why  her 
father's  remark  annoyed  her. 

Before  leaving  Manchester  Mr.  McNally  wired 
to  the  Tillman  City  Finance  Committee  an  invi- 
tation to  dine  at  the  Hotel  Tremain  at  7.45  P.M. 
During  the  journey  he  matured  his  plan  of 
campaign. 

This  was  not  likely  to  be  more  than  mildly 
exciting,  for  twenty  years  of  political  and  finan- 
cial juggling  had  fitted  Mr.  McNally  for  deli- 
cate work.  In  his  connection  with  various  cor- 
porations he  hp.d  learned  the  art  of  subduing 
insubordinate  legislatures  without  friction,  if 
not  without  expense,  and  naturally  the  present 
task  offered  few  difficulties.  That  was  why, 
after  an  hour  or  so  of  thought,  he  straightened 
up  in  his  seat,  bought  a  paper,  and  read  it  with 
interest,  from  the  foreign  news  to  the  foot-ball 
prospects.  Mr.  McNally's  tastes  were  cosmo- 
politan, and  now  that  his  method  was  deter- 


Politics  and  Other  Things  41 

mined  he  dismissed  M.  &  T.  stock  from  his 
mind.  He  knew  Tillman  City,  and  more  to  the 
point,  he  knew  Michael  Blaney,  Chairman  of 
the  Council  Finance  Committee.  Finesse  would 
not  be  needed,  subtlety  would  be  lost,  with 
Blaney,  and  so  Mr.  McNally  was  prepared  to 
talk  bluntly.  And  on  occasion  Mr.  McNally 
could  be  terseness  itself. 

On  his  arrival  he  took  a  cab  for  the  hotel. 
The  Committee  were  on  hand  to  meet  him, 
and  Blaney  made  him  acquainted  with  the 
others. 

Michael  Blaney  was  a  man  of  the  people.  He 
was  tall  and  angular,  hands  and  face  seamed 
and  leathery  from  the  work  of  earlier  days, 
eyes  small  and  keen,  and  a  scraggy  mustache, 
that  petered  out  at  the  ends.  He  had  risen  by 
slow  but  sure  stages  from  a  struggling  contrac- 
tor with  no  pull,  to  be  the  absolute  monarch 
of  six  wards;  and  as  the  other  seven  wards 
were  divided  between  the  pro-  and  anti-pavers, 
Blaney  held  the  municipal  reins.  He  still 
derived  an  income  from  city  contracts,  but  his 
name  did  not  appear  on  the  bids. 

After  dinner  Mr.  McNally  led  the  way  to  his 
room,  and  in  a  few  words  announced  that  he 


42  The  Short  Line   War 

had  come  for  the  M.  &  T.  stock.  Blaney 
tipped  back  in  his  chair  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Can't  do  it,  Mr.  McNally.    It  ain't  for  sale." 

"  So  I  heard,"  said  McNally,  quietly,  "  but  I 
want  it." 

"You  see  it's  like  this.  When  they  were 
building  the  line,  we  took  the  stock  on  a  special 
act  —  " 

"  I  understand  all  that,"  McNally  interrupted. 
"That  can  be  fixed." 

Williams,  one  of  the  other  two,  leaned  over 
the  table. 

"  We  ain't  fools  enough  to  go  up  against  Jim 
Weeks,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  worry  about  Weeks,"  replied  McNally, 
"  I  can  take  care  of  him." 

"Who  are  you  buying  for?  "  asked  Blaney. 

McNally  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  three 
men,  then  said  quietly:  — 

"  I  am  buying  for  C.  &  S.  C.  Jim  Weeks  is 
all  right,  but  he  can't  hold  out  against  us." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you,  Mr.  McNally,  we  can't  sell." 

"Why  not?" 

"Outside  of  the  original  terms  —  and  they 
sew  us  up  —  we  never  could  get  it  through  the 
Council." 


Politics  and  Other  Things  43 

McNally  folded  his  hands  on  the  table  and 
looked  at  Blaney  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"  That's  all  rot,  Blaney/' 

"  No,  it  ain't.    The  boys  are  right  with  Weeks.'1 

"  See  here,  Blaney.  You  just  stop  and  ask 
yourself  what  Weeks  has  done  for  you.  He's 
sunk  a  lot  of  your  money  and  a  lot  of  St. 
Johns's  money,  to  say  nothing  of  Chicago,  in 
a  road  that  never  has  paid  and  never  will  pay. 
Why,  man,  the  stock  would  be  at  forty  now  if 
we  hadn't  pushed  it  up.  I  tell  you  Jim  Weeks 
is  licked.  The  only  way  for  you  to  get  your 
money  back  is  to  vote  in  men  who  can  make  it 
go.  We've  got  the  money,  and  we've  got  the 
men.  It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  Tillman  City, 
and  a  good  thing "  —  he  paused,  and  looked 
meaningly  at  the  three  faces  before  him  —  "a 
mighty  good  thing  for  you  boys." 

"  We  couldn't  put  it  through  in  time  for  the 
election  anyhow." 

"  The  eighth  ?     That's  two  weeks." 

"  I  know  it,  but  we'd  have  to  work  the  oppo- 
sition." 

"  Talk  business,  Blaney.  I'll  make  it  worth 
your  while." 

"What'll  you  give?" 


44  The  Short  Line   War 

"  For  the  stock  ?  " 

"Well  — yes,  for  the  stock." 

"  I'll  give  you  par." 

"Urn  — when?" 

"That  depends  on  you.  However,  if  you 
really  want  time,  you  can  have  it.  I  suppose 
you  boys  vote  the  stock?" 

All  three  nodded. 

"  Well,  you  vote  for  our  men,  and  I'll  sign  an 
agreement  to  pay  cash  at  par  after  the  meeting." 

"Why  not  now?" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  any  hold  on  you.  Anyhow, 
I  won't  pay  till  I  get  the  stock,  and  you  seem  to 
want  time." 

Blaney  glanced  at  the  other  two.  They  were 
watching  McNally  closely,  and  Williams  was 
fumbling  his  watch  chain.  Blaney's  eyes  met 
McNally's. 

"  What'll  you  do  for  us  ? "  he  asked.  "  It'll 
take  careful  work." 

For  answer  McNally  rose  and  went  to  the  bed, 
where  his  bag  lay  open.  He  rummaged  a  mo- 
ment, then  returned  with  a  pack  of  cards. 

"  Forgot  my  chips,"  he  said,  seating  himself. 
"  Close  up,  boys." 

He  dealt  the  cards  with  deft  hands.     Blaney 


Politics  and  Other  Things  45 

started  to  take  his  up,  then  paused  with  his  hand 
over  them. 

"  What's  the  ante  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  five  hundred  ? "  McNally  replied. 

Blaney  pushed  the  cards  back. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  not  enough." 

Williams  seconded  his  chief  with  a  shake  of 
the  head. 

"  Well,  name  it  yourself." 

"A  thousand." 

McNally  pursed  his  lips,  then  drew  out  a 
wallet,  and  counted  out  three  thousand  dollars 
in  large  bills,  which  he  laid  in  the  centre  of  the 
table. 

"  There's  four  playing,"  suggested  Blaney. 

McNally  scowled. 

"  Don't  be  a  hog,  Blaney."  He  took  up  his 
hand,  then  laid  it  down  and  rose,  adding,  — 

"  Can't  do  anything  with  that  hand." 

The  three  Committeemen  dropped  their  cards 
and  each  pocketed  a  third  of  the  money.  Mr. 
McNally  fished  a  pad  from  his  grip  and  wrote 
the  contract  binding  himself  to  pay  for  the 
stock  after  the  election  on  condition  that  it 
should  be  voted  at  his  dictation.  He  signed  it, 
and  tossed  it  across  the  table. 


46  The  Short  Line   War 

"  All  right,  Mr.  McNally,"  said  Blaney,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand.  "I  guess  we  can  see  you 
through.  Good  night." 

"Good  night,  Blaney;  good  night,  boys." 
McNally  shook  hands  cordially  with  each. 
"We'll  have  a  good  road  here  yet." 

When  their  footfalls  died  away  in  the  hall, 
Mr.  McNally  turned  to  the  table,  gathered  the 
cards,  and  replaced  them  in  his  bag.  The  room 
was  close  with  cigar  smoke,  and  he  threw  open 
the  windows.  With  the  sensation  of  removing 
something  offensive,  he  washed  his  hands.  He 
stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  out  the  win- 
dow at  the  quiet  city,  then  he  sauntered  down- 
stairs and  into  the  deserted  parlor,  seating  him- 
self at  the  piano.  His  plump  hands  wandered 
over  the  keys  with  surprisingly  delicate  touch. 
For  a  short  time  he  improvised.  Then  as  the 
night  quiet  stole  into  his  thoughts,  he  drifted 
into  Rubinstein's  Melody  in  F,  playing  it 
dreamily. 


CHAPTER   IV 

JIM   WEEKS   CLOSES   IN 

IT  was  midnight  when  Jim  Weeks  reached 
Tillman  City.  The  next  morning  at  breakfast 
he  recognized  Mr.  McNally,  and  though  he 
nodded  pleasantly,  his  thoughts  were  not  the 
most  amicable.  He  knew  that  McNally  meant 
mischief,  and  he  also  knew  that  McNally's  mis- 
chief could  be  accomplished  only  through  one 
man,  Michael  Blaney.  Heretofore  Blaney  had 
not  troubled  Jim.  Jim's  power  and  his  hold  on 
Tillman  City  affairs  had  combined  to  inspire 
the  lesser  dictator  with  awe,  and  in  order  to 
obtain  concessions  it  had  been  necessary  only 
to  ask  for  them.  Jim  never  dealt  direct  with 
Blaney.  The  councilman  to  whom  he  intrusted 
his  measures  was  Bridge,  leader  of  the  pro- 
pavers.  Jim  had  won  him  by  generosity  in 
transportation  of  paving  supplies.  But  when 
Jim  left  the  hotel  that  morning  he  wasted  no 
time  on  minority  leaders.  Bridge  was  useful  to 
47 


48  The  Short  Line   War 

prepare  and  introduce  ordinances,  but  was  not 
of  the  caliber  for  big  deals,  so  Jim  ordered  a 
carriage  and  drove  direct  to  Blaney's  house. 
Although  the  hour  was  early,  the  politician  was 
not  at  home.  His  wife,  a  frail  little  woman, 
came  to  the  door  and  extended  a  flexible  speak- 
ing trumpet  that  hung  about  her  shoulders. 

"No,"  she  said  in  reply  to  Jim's  question, 
"he's  down  on  the  artesian  road  watching  a 
job.  He  won't  be  back  till  noon." 

The  road  in  question  leads  from  the  city  to 
the  artesian  well  a  few  miles  away.  Jim  turned 
his  horses  and  went  back  through  the  town  and 
out  toward  the  country.  He  found  Blaney  just 
inside  the  city  limits,  sitting  on  a  curb  and  over- 
seeing two  bosses  and  a  gang  of  laborers,  who 
were  tearing  up  the  macadam  with  the  destruc- 
tive enthusiasm  of  the  hired  sewer  digger. 

"  How  are  you,  Blaney  ? "  called  Jim,  pulling 
up. 

Blaney  nodded  sourly.  He  was  a  man  of 
bullying  rather  than  of  tactful  propensities  and 
he  could  not  conceal  his  distaste  for  an  inter- 
view with  Jim  Weeks  at  this  particular  moment. 
To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  begun  to  fear  the 
results  of  the  agreement  with  McNally  which 


1 

Jim    Weeks  Closes  In  49 

rested  in  his  coat  pocket.  Weeks  was  a  hard 
man  to  fight,  and  wasted  no  words  on  disloyalty. 
However,  Blaney  knew  that  dissimulation  would 
profit  him  nothing,  for  to  keep  the  changed  vote 
a  secret  would  be  impossible;  so  he  squared 
himself  for  a  row.  Jim  tied  his  horses  to  a 
sapling  and  sat  beside  him,  remarking,  — 

"  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"Haven't  got  much  time,"  replied  Blaney, 
making  a  show  of  looking  at  his  watch. 

Jim  smiled  meaningly. 

"  You've  got  all  the  time  I  need.  I  want  to 
know  what  you're  up  to  with  our  stock." 

Blaney  gazed  at  the  laborers. 

"Here!"  he  called  to  a  lazy  Irishman,  "get 
back  there  where  you  belong !  " 

"  Come  now,  Blaney,  talk  business." 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  about  that 
stock  ? " 

"  How  are  you  going  to  vote  it  ? " 

"I  guess  I  can  vote  it." 

"  Are  you  going  to  stick  to  me  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not.  I'll  do 
what  the  Council  directs." 

Jim  gave  him  a  contemptuous  glance. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Blaney." 

E 


50  The  Short  Line   War 

"See  here/9. said  Blaney,  rising;  "what  are 
you  trying  to  do  ? " 

Jim  rose  too. 

"  You've  answered  my  question/'  he  replied. 
"  You  think  you  can  throw  me  out." 

"  I  ain't  throwing  anybody  out,"  muttered 
Blaney.  He  walked  away  and  stood  looking  at 
the  trench  in  the  street  which  the  men  had  sunk 
shoulder  deep.  Jim  followed. 

"  I'm  not  through  yet,  Blaney." 

"  I  haven't  got  time  to  talk  with  you,"  blus- 
tered the  contractor.  Jim  stood  a  moment  look- 
ing him  over.  Blaney 's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
Irishman. 

"  How  much  did  he  give  you  ? "  asked  Jim, 
quietly. 

Blaney  whirled  around. 

"Look  out,"  he  said.  "I  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about,  but  a  man  can't  say  that 
to  me."  His  fists  were  clenched.  Jim  spoke 
without  emotion. 

"Drop  it,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  here  for  my 
health.  I  knew  all  that  some  hours  ago.  If  I 
couldn't  work  it'  any  better  than  you've  done, 
I'd  quit.  Now  what  I  want  you  to  do, 
Blaney  —  " 


Jim    Weeks  Closes  In  51 

"See  here,  you've  said  enough!'1  Blaney 
was  excited.  "You  can't  come  around  here 
and  bulldoze  me.  We've  bought  that  stock 
and  we'll  vote  it  as  we  like,  damn  it;  and  you 
can  go  to  hell !  " 

Jim  looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  then  he  went 
to  his  buggy  and  drove  back  to  the  hotel.  He 
saw  that  Blaney  was  frightened,  but  he  evi- 
dently was  too  thoroughly  bought  up  to  be 
easily  shaken.  With  what  some  men  called 
his  "gameness"  Jim  dropped  Blaney  from  his 
mind  for  the  moment,  and  began  to  plan  for  a 
desperate  counter  move.  Before  he  reached 
the  hotel  the  move  was  decided  upon,  and  Jim 
was  placid. 

The  next  man  to  see  was  Bridge.  Jim 
paused  at  the  hotel  long  enough  to  send  a 
message  to  the  station  agent  to  have  a  special 
ready  in  fifteen  minutes;  then  he  went  to  the 
office  of  his  lieutenant. 

Bridge  was  an  architect  with  a  yearning  for 
politics.  For  several  years  he  had  tried  to  keep 
both  irons  in  the  fire,  and  as  a  result  was  not 
over-successful  in  either.  But  he  was  a  shrewd, 
silent  man,  and  could  be  trusted.  Jim  found 
him  designing  a  stable. 


52  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Weeks.  What  brings  you  to 
Tillman?" 

"Bad  business/1  responded  Jim,  shortly. 
"Blaney's  sold  out  to  the  C.  &  S.  C." 

Mr.  Bridge  sat  upon  his  table  and  said  noth- 
ing. When  taken  by  surprise  Mr.  Bridge  usu- 
ally said  nothing;  that  is  why  he  had  risen  to 
the  leadership  of  a  faction. 

"I  don't  know  just  what's  happened,"  Jim 
went  on,  "but  there's  trouble  ahead." 

"  Does  Blaney  say  he's  going  to  vote  against 
you?" 

"No,"  said  Jim,  "but  he  gave  himself 
away." 

"  Can  you  block  him  ?  " 

Jim  passed  over  the  question. 

"I  wish  you'd  watch  him,  Bridge.  There's 
a  deal  on,  and  Frederick  McNally  is  the  other 
party.  He's  for  C.  &  S.  C.  of  course.  Do 
you  know  him  ?  " 

Bridge  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  never  mind.  I'll  watch  him.  But 
you  worry  Blaney.  He's  a  little  rattled  now,  — 
I  reckon  McNally 's  soaked  him,  —  and  if  you're 
careful  you  ought  to  find  out  something.  I 
want  to  know  just  how  they've  fixed  it" 


Jim    Weeks  Closes  In  53 

Bridge  nodded. 

"I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him." 

"Well,"  — Jim  rose,  —  "I've  got  a  train  to 
catch.  Good-by." 

He  drove  rapidly  to  the  station;  the  agent 
hurried  toward  him  as  he  pulled  up  at  the 
platform. 

"  I  only  got  your  message  this  minute,  Mr. 
Weeks/'  he  said;  "there  isn't  a  car  in  the 
yards." 

"What's  that?"  Jim  looked  at  his  watch. 
"Got  an  engine?" 

"  Only  the  switch  engine." 

"  I'll  take  that." 

The  agent  hesitated. 

"You  wouldn't  get  through  before  next 
week,"  he  said.  "  There's  a  couple  of  passen- 
ger engines  in  the  roundhouse,  but  they  ain't 
fired." 

The  telegraph  operator  leaned  out  of  the 
window  and  broke  into  the  conversation. 

"Murphy's  firing  the  big  eleven  for  sixteen 
from  Truesdale.  You  might  take  that." 

"Got  a  good  man  to  run  it  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"Jawn  Donohue's  on  the  switch  engine," 
replied  the  operator.  "He  knows  the  road." 


54  The  Short  Line   War 

Jim  dimly  remembered  the  name  Donohue. 
Somewhat  more  than  a  year  before  his  manager 
had  reduced  a  man  of  that  name  for  crippling 
an  engine  on  a  flying  switch. 

"He's  the  best  man  you  could  get,  Mr. 
Weeks,"  said  the  agent,  and  turning,  he  ran 
down  the  platform  toward  the  freight  house. 
Jim  called  after  him :  — 

"  He's  got  to  connect  at  Manchester  with  the 
twelve  o'clock  for  Chicago." 

Jawn's  dumpy  little  engine  was  blowing  off 
on  a  siding.  Jawn  was  oiling.  He  was  a  short 
man,  filling  out  his  wide  overalls  with  an  in-'em- 
to-stay  appearance.  His  beard  was  brushy,  his 
eyes  were  lost  in  a  gray  tangle  of  brows  and 
lashes,  and  he  chewed  the  stem  of  a  cob  pipe. 

"  Jawn,"  said  the  agent,  excitedly,  "  get  eleven 
up  to  the  platform  quick  ! " 

Jawn  turned  around,  lowered  the  oil-can,  and 
looked  at  the  nervous  agent  with  impassive  eyes. 

"  Why  ? "  he  said  slowly. 

"  You've  got  to  connect  with  Manchester  at 
twelve  o'clock." 

Jawn  replaced  his  pipe. 

"  Wait  till  I  kick  them  empties  in  on  the  house 
track.  Who's  it  for?" 


Jim    Weeks  Closes  In  55 

"  Don't  stop  for  that !     It's  the  President !  " 

Jawn  grunted,  and  walked  deliberately  across 
the  tracks  and  into  the  roundhouse,  followed 
by  his  fireman.  Murphy,  the  hostler,  was  hov- 
ering about  the  big  throbbing  locomotive,  put- 
ting a  final  polish  on  the  oil-cups  and  piston-rods. 
Jawn,  without  a  word,  climbed  into  the  cab, 
and  out  over  the  tender,  where  he  lifted  the 
tank  lid  and  peered  down  at  the  water. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  the  agent  called.  "  You 
can  water  up  at  Byron/' 

Jawn  slowly  clambered  over  the  coal  and 
leaned  against  the  doorway,  packing  the  to- 
bacco firmly  into  his  pipe  with  his  fire-proof 
.  little  finger. 

"Young  man,"  he  said  gruffly,  "I  run  this 
engine  for  four  years  without  taking  water  be- 
tween here  and  Manchester,  and  I  reckon  I  can 
do  it  agin."  Then  he  pulled  her  slowly  out  of 
the  roundhouse. 

In  the  meantime,  the  operator  had  sent  this 
message  to  the  train  despatcher  at  Manches- 
ter:— 

Want  right  of  way  over  everything.  Pres.  coming  on 
light  engine. 


56  The  Short  Line   War 

To  which  the  despatcher  replied :  — 

Run  to  Manchester  extra  regardless  of  all  trains. 

When  the  engine  finally  rolled  into  the  station 
Jim  was  pacing  up  and  down ;  he  was  as  nearly 
impatient  as  Jim  Weeks  could  be. 

"You'll  have  to  move  faster  than  that,"  he 
said  shortly,  swinging  himself  up  the  steps. 

Jawn  glanced  at  him  without  reply,  then 
looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  twenty  minutes 
after  ten.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  throttle 
and  pulled.  There  was  a  gasp  of  steam,  a 
whirring  and  slipping  of  the  drive  wheels,  and 
the  engine  plunged  forward.  Jawn  fingered 
the  lever  with  a  lover's  caress.  He  knew  old 
"  eleven,"  every  foot  of  her,  every  tube,  bolt, 
and  strap.  As  they  cleared  the  yards,  he 
threw  her  wider  and  wider  open  until  she  was 
lunging  and  lurching  madly.  The  cinders  beat 
a  tattoo  upon  the  cab,  and  Jim  Weeks  crowded 
up  into  the  corner.  The  fireman,  a  strapping 
young  fellow,  threw  in  great  shovels  of  coal  with 
the  regularity  of  a  machine,  pausing  only  to 
wipe  his  forehead  with  the  back  of  his  hand  as 
the  heat  grew  intense.  When  he  opened  the 
furnace  door,  Jim  could  see  the  glowing  bed  lift 
and  stir  with  the  jolt  of  the  engine. 


Jim   Weeks  Closes  In  57 

Old  Jawn,  perched  upon  his  high  seat/ never 
shifted  his  eyes  from  the  track  ahead.  His 
face  wore  the  usual  scowl,  but  betrayed  no 
emotion.  Perhaps  his  teeth  gripped  the  pipe- 
stem  harder  than  usual,  but  then,  it  was  a  preg- 
nant hour  for  Jawn.  The  feel  of  the  old  pet 
under  his  hand  made  his  heart  jump,  and 
brought  the  hope  that  a  successful  run  might 
lead  him  back  to  his  own.  Jawn  knew  that  he 
deserved  something  better  than  a  switch  engine 
in  the  division  yards,  he  knew  that  he  was  the 
best  engineer  on  the  road,  but  he  had  steeled 
himself  against  hope.  As  they  whirled  past 
the  mile-posts  his  emotion  grew.  He  felt  that 
the  President  was  watching  him  closely,  and  he 
coaxed  the  steel  thing  into  terrific  speed.  The 
cab  grew  hotter  and  hotter.  Jim  loosened  his 
grip  on  the  seat  long  enough  to  unbutton  his 
collar  and  to  twist  his  handkerchief  around 
his  neck.  The  fireman  was  dripping,  but  Jawn 
sat  immovable  as  marble.  They  whirled  past 
little  stations  with  a  sudden  roar.  At  Brushing- 
ham  a  passenger  train  lay  on  the  siding.  There 
was  a  mottled  flash  of  yellow,  then  they  were 
by,  and  for  an  instant  Jawn  smiled.  He  hadn't 
passed  Jack  Martin  like  that  for  years. 


58  The  Short  Line   War 

Then  they  struck  the  hills.  Up  with  a  snort, 
over  with  a  groan,  and  down  with  a  rumble  and 
slide,  they  flew.  Here  Jawn's  eyes  shifted  to 
the  water  gauge.  Jim  locked  one  arm  around 
the  window  post,  and  sat  with  eyes  fixed  on 
his  watch.  The  minute  hand  crept  around  to 
eleven,  passed  it,  and  on  to  five,  ten,  fifteen, 
twenty,  twenty-five.  At  thirty-five  clusters  of 
cottages  began  to  shoot  by.  Jawn's  arm  began 
to  straighten  —  the  roar  diminished  a  trifle. 
Thirty-seven  they  passed  rows  of  coal-laden  flat 
cars  ;  thirty-nine,  they  slackened  through  a  tan- 
gle of  tracks ;  forty-one,  the  big  engine  rolled 
under  the  train  shed  and  stopped  in  a  cloud  of 
steam. 

Jim  stepped  down  and  stretched  himself. 
The  fireman  had  staggered  back  into  the  ten- 
der, and  lay  in  a  heap,  fanning  himself  with 
his  cap.  Jawn  took  a  final  glance  at  the  water 
gauge,  then  he  swung  around  and  removed  his 
cold  pipe. 

"  Mr.  Weeks,"  he  said  gruffly,  "  I  brung  ye  a 
hundred  and  three  mile  in  eighty-one  minutes. 
There  ain't  another  man  on  the  line  could  'a' 
done  it.  I  reckon  that's  why  there's  nothing 
for  me  but  a  switch  engine."  Without  wait- 


Jim    Weeks  Closes  In  59 

ing  for  a  reply  he  seized  an  oil-can  and  swung 
out  of  the  cab.  Jim  followed  in  silence,  and 
hurried  away  with  a  grim  smile. 

At  two-thirty  Jim  was  in  his  Chicago  office. 
For  some  time  he  was  closeted  with  Myers, 
treasurer  of  the  road,  then  he  closed  his  desk 
and  went  out.  He  spent  an  hour  with  Spencer, 
a  capitalist  and  an  M.  &  T.  director.  From 
four  to  six  he  was  locked  in  his  office,  going 
through  his  various  collateral  securities.  At 
six  he  locked  his  office  and  went  home  with  a 
feeling  of  relief.  The  battle  was  on,  and  Jim 
was  ready.  There  would  be  a  meeting  at  his 
house  that  evening  between  Spencer,  Myers, 
and  himself ;  not  a  long  meeting,  but  one  pro- 
ductive of  results. 


CHAPTER  V 

TUESDAY   EVENING 

HARVEY  WEST  liked  to  be  comfortable.  His 
rooms  were  in  a  quiet  apartment  house  on  the 
West  Side,  within  easy  reach  of  the  Metropoli- 
tan Elevated,  and  not  far  from  the  big  house 
where  Jim  Weeks  held  bachelor  sway.  Harvey 
was  not  a  musician,  but  a  good  piano  stood  in 
his  sitting  room.  He  had  accumulated  a  few 
etchings  and  two  bronzes;  and  on  the  centre 
table  were  piled  the  latest  books.  Harvey  read 
these  about  as  he  listened  to  Grand  Opera  — 
he  recognized  that  a  man  should  keep  in  touch 
with  such  things.  In  a  vague  way  he  enjoyed 
them,  but  he  was  too  honest  to  cultivate  the 
glib  generalities  that  give  so  many  men  a  rating 
as  connoisseurs  of  art,  music,  and  literature. 
Harvey  liked  action.  Business  appealed  to  him, 
anything  with  motion  and  excitement ;  then, 
after  the  fever  of  the  day,  he  was  drawn  to  a 
few  friends  and  a  good  cigar.  But  back  behind 
60 


Tuesday  Evening  6 1 

his  straightforward  democratic  temperament 
there  was  a  dash  of  good  blood,  the  sifting  down 
of  generations  of  gentlemen  and  gentlewomen, 
that  accounted  for  Harvey's  inherent  good 
taste.  He  could  not  criticise  the  technique  of  a 
picture,  but  he  never  selected  a  poor  one.  And 
the  few  books  he  really  liked  were  the  kind  one 
can  read  once  a  year  with  profit. 

Early  on  this  Tuesday  evening  Harvey  was 
trying  to  read,  but  his  eyes  would  wander  and 
his  brow  contract.  At  intervals  he  would  turn 
in  his  chair  and  endeavor  to  bring  his  thoughts 
back  to  the  book.  Finally  he  shut  it  with  a 
bang  and,  walking  to  the  window,  stood  looking 
out  over  the  city.  It  had  been  a  hard  day  for 
Harvey.  He  had  passed  hours  waiting  to  learn 
the  result  of  Jim's  efforts  to  head  off  McNally. 
The  news  that  C.  &  S.  C.  would  undoubtedly 
control  the  Tillman  City  stock  at  election  had 
been  closely  followed  by  the  discovery  of  un- 
expected strength  in  the  opposition  directors. 
People  used  to  say  of  Jim  that  he  was  never  so 
happy  as  when  fighting  in  his  last  ditch,  but 
Harvey  derived  no  pleasure  from  such  opera- 
tions. On  this  occasion  he  was  particularly 
troubled.  He  felt  that  his  failure  to  tend  to 


62  The  Short  Line   War 

business  the  preceding  afternoon  had  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  loss  of  Tillman  City ;  and, 
worst  of  all,  what  a  fool  Miss  Porter  must  think 
him. 

The  boulevard  below  was  hedged  with  two 
long  rows  of  gas-lamps  which  converged  far 
away  to  the  south.  Sounds  of  the  street  floated 
up  to  him  —  the  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  asphalt, 
disjointed  conversations  from  wheelmen,  juve- 
nile calls  and  whistles.  Harvey  looked  down  at 
the  strolling  crowds  on  the  sidewalk,  and  felt 
lonely.  He  turned  away  from  the  window,  and 
took  a  cigar  from  the  hospitable  box  on  the 
mantel.  Near  the  box  was  a  kodak  picture  of 
Miss  Porter  which  he  had  taken  some  time 
before.  He  held  the  picture  to  the  light,  and 
gazed  at  it  earnestly.  "  You  had  a  fine  laugh 
over  me  yesterday,  didn't  you,  when  your  father 
told  you  all  about  it  ? " 

Harvey's  big  sitting  room  was  popular.  His 
friends  had  the  comfortable  habit  of  dropping 
in  at  almost  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  sure 
of  a  hearty  welcome.  But  to-night  the  thought 
of  visitors  caused  him  to  replace  the  picture 
suddenly,  seize  his  hat  and  stick,  and  start  out 
for  —  somewhere.  At  first  he  entertained  a 


Tuesday  Evening  63 

dim  notion  of  going  to  Lincoln  Park,  so  he  took 
the  elevated  down  town,  and  started  north  on 
the  Clark  Street  cable.  But  as  the  car  jolted 
along,  he  remembered  that  the  band  did  not 
play  Tuesday  evenings.  He  might  take  in  the 
electric  fountain,  but  in  the  crowd  you  couldn't 
go  about  and  look  at  people  without  being  in 
other  people's  way.  Harvey  was  fond  of  the 
great  public,  but  he  liked  to  hold  himself  in 
the  background.  He  rode  past  the  Park  under 
the  long  row  of  elms,  gazing  absently  at  the 
thronging  walk  where  the  middle  strata  of 
North  Side  humanity  take  their  evening  prome- 
nade. Passing  the  Park,  he  decided  to  go  on 
to  the  Bismarck,  where  he  could  be  among 
people  and  yet  remain  alone. 

A  few  minutes  before  eight  he  walked  be- 
tween the  brown  dragons  which  guard  the 
entrance,  and  crossed  the  raised  pavilion  be- 
tween the  street  and  the  garden.  At  the  head 
of  the  stairs  he  paused  a  moment,  then  he 
turned  aside  and  seated  himself  at  a  table 
near  by,  where  he  could  lean  against  the  rail- 
ing and  overlook  the  crowd  below. 

It  was  still  somewhat  early,  and  the  long 
rows  of  white  tables  stood  vacant.  By  daylight 


64  The  Short  Line   War 

the  trees  in  a  summer  garden  wear  a  home- 
sick look,  but  to-night  the  festooned  incandes- 
cent lamps  spread  a  soft  yellow  light  through 
the  foliage,  already  thinned,  though  the  night 
was  warm,  by  the  touch  of  September;  while 
high  up  on  their  white  poles  the  big  arcs  threw 
down  a  weird  blue  glare,  casting  a  confusion  of 
half-opaque  shadows  upon  the  gravelled  earth. 
Far  to  the  front  was  the  stage  with  its  half 
dome ;  the  double-bass  was  tuning  his  instru- 
ment, a  few  others  were  sorting  music  or  run- 
ning over  difficult  passages. 

By  this  time  the  crowd  was  pouring  in  and 
spreading  among  the  tables.  Harvey  leaned 
back  and  watched  the  almost  unbroken  line 
that  moved  from  the  gate  to  the  steps.  There 
were  a  great  many  family  groups,  with  here 
and  there  a  chaperoned  party  from  the  suburbs. 
A  sound  of  scraping  and  squealing  and  grunt- 
ing from  the  stage  announced  the  orchestral 
preliminaries.  There  was  a  scattering  fusillade 
of  applause  as  the  tall  conductor  appeared. 
Looking  through  the  trees,  Harvey  could  see 
him  rap  his  stand  and  raise  both  arms.  The 
concert  was  on.  Harvey's  glance  shifted  back 
to  the  stairway,  and  he  started.  On  the  bottom 


Tuesday  Evening  65 

step,  looking  about  for  a  vacant  table,  was  Will- 
iam C.  Porter.  Behind  him,  standing,  with  head 
thrown  back,  was  Miss  Katherine  Porter.  For 
a  moment  she  looked  at  the  shifting  scene  be- 
fore her.  Harvey  noted  with  hungry  eyes  the 
poise  of  her  figure.  Then  she  turned  delib- 
erately, and  bowed  to  Harvey  with  a  bright 
smile. 

A  little  later,  as  Harvey  sat  alone  listening 
to  the  music,  Mr.  Porter  appeared,  picking  his 
way  toward  the  centre  aisle.  Harvey  watched 
him  idly.  He  finally  reached  the  stairway,  and 
came  straight  to  Harvey's  table. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  West,"  he  said,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "  Won't  you  join  us  ?  We  shall 
be  here  for  an  hour,  any  way. " 

Harvey  rose,  and  looked  across  the  diagonal 
line  of  tables.  Miss  Porter  was  leaning  forward 
with  a  smile.  Harvey's  mind  had  been  made 
up,  but  he  changed  it  and  followed  Mr.  Porter. 

Katherine  received  him  brightly  and  immedi- 
ately put  him  at  ease.  For  the  time  he  forgot 
that  Mr.  Porter  and  he  were  nominal  enemies. 
Mr.  Porter  talked  entertainingly  of  the  people 
about  them,  a  subject  which  Harvey  could  con- 
tinue with  intelligence ;  and  he  was  gratified  to 


66  The  Short  Line  War 

note  the  interest  in  the  daughter's  eyes  as  he 
commented  on  the  oddities  of  human  character. 

They  were  looking  at  a  party  of  Germans, 
who  sat  listening  to  the  music  with  the  stolid 
interest  of  the  race,  when  Mr.  Porter  rose  and 
beckoned.  Katherine  nodded  to  some  one 
behind  Harvey.  A  moment  later  he  was  shak- 
ing hands  with  Mr.  McNally. 

"We've  been  watching  for  you  for  some 
time/'  said  Mr.  Porter,  as  McNally  took  the 
vacant  chair. 

"  Have  you  ? "  McNally  smiled  easily.  "  I 
wish  you  had  said  that,  Miss  Porter. " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  McNally,  you  know  I  was  hoping 
for  you." 

Harvey's  eyes  betrayed  him,  for  she  added 
in  a  bantering  tone, — 

"We  must  say  such  things  to  Mr.  McNally, 
Mr.  West ;  if  we  don't,  he  gets  simply  unbear- 
able/' 

McNally  looked  at  her  with  an  amused  ex- 
pression. Evidently  they  understood  each  other. 
As  the  banter  continued,  Harvey  began  to  feel 
uncomfortable.  He  tried  to  listen  to  the  or- 
chestra, which  was  playing  a  lively  march. 

"  Good,  isn't  it  ? "  said  Miss  Porter  to  Harvey. 


Tuesday  Evening  67 

"  Splendid,"  he  replied. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  observed  Mr.  McNally. 
"Seems  to  me  Bunge's  a  little  off  to-night. 
Too  much  drum.  Queer  motions,  hasn't 
he  ? " 

Herr  Bunge's  motions  were  queer.  He  was 
very  tall  and  spare,  with  an  angular,  smooth- 
shaven  face,  and  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
hair  that  waved  and  flopped  in  the  gentle 
breeze.  His  long  arms  were  principally  elbow, 
and  they  swayed  and  crooked  and  jerked  as 
though  he  were  pulling  the  music  down  out  of 
the  air.  At  times  when  he  turned  to  the  be- 
lated second  violins,  his  gaunt  profile  would 
appear  in  silhouette  against  a  glare  of  electric 
light. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  McNally,  fingering  his 
programme,  "  Bunge  ought  to  stick  to  this  kind 
of  stuff.  Last  week  I  heard  him  play  some  of 
the  Queen  Mab  music,  and  it  was  wilful  slaugh- 
ter. Poor  old  Berlioz  would  have  sobbed  aloud 
if  he  had  heard  it." 

Harvey  felt  awkward.  He  could  not  follow 
McNally's  comments,  and  it  humiliated  him. 
Miss  Porter  was  quick  to  observe  his  silence, 
and  endeavored  to  draw  him  into  the  conversa- 


68  The  Short  Line   War 

tion,  while  Mr.  McNally  seemed  determined  to 
hold  the  reins.  There  was  some  good-natured 
fencing,  then  Mr.  Porter  rose. 

"  You'll  excuse  us,  Mr.  West/1  he  said  pleas- 
antly. "  We  have  an  engagement  for  the  latter 
part  of  the  evening." 

"  Yes/'  added  his  daughter,  "  we  promised  to 
go  out  to  Edgewater  —  the  Saddle  and  Cycle, 
you  know." 

Harvey  bowed  and  stood  immovable,  as 
father,  daughter,  and  Mr.  McNally  left  the 
garden.  She  had  given  him  a  quick  glance, 
and  he  wondered  what  it  meant,  He  sat  down 
and  absently  broke  the  straws  in  his  glass.  The 
orchestra  had  stopped,  and  a  buzz  of  conversa- 
tion floated  into  the  foliage.  White-clad  waiters 
bustled  about  with  trays  piled  high. 

After  another  number  he  started  for  home, 
blue  and  angry.  As  he  left  the  elevated  and 
walked  down  Ashland  Avenue,  he  saw  that 
Jim's  house  was  lighted  up,  and  he  crossed 
over.  Jim  and  he  were  better  friends  than 
their  relative  positions  indicated.  Neither  had 
family  ties,  and  Jim's  interest  in  the  younger 
man  was  perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to  senti- 
ment he  had  felt  for  years.  He  seldom  openly 


Tuesday  Evening  69 

showed  his  regard,  but  Harvey  was  perfectly 
conscious  of  it,  and  he  valued  it  highly. 

Jim  was  sitting  alone  at  the  table  in  the 
library.  He  greeted  Harvey  by  tipping  back 
and  waving  toward  a  seat.  The  table  was 
littered  with  papers. 

"How  are  you?"  said  Jim.  "We've  stolen 
a  march  on  you/' 

Harvey  smiled,  and  threw  himself  wearily 
into  a  chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked.  "C  &  S.  C. 
again  ? " 

Jim  nodded,  and  drawing  out  his  cigar  case, 
he  took  one  and  tossed  the  case  down  to  Har- 
vey, then  said :  — 

"Yes,  and  I  think  we've  got  'em  down. 
We've  issued  some  more  stock."  He  leaned 
on  the  table  and  spoke  in  a  confidential  tone. 
"And  I  reckon  Porter'll  be  doing  a  hornpipe 
when  he  finds  it  out." 

"  Who  took  it  ?  "  asked  Harvey. 

"  Spencer,  Myers,  and  I.  The  books  haven't 
been  closed,  you  know." 

Harvey  blew  out  a  thin  cloud  of  smoke,  and 
looked  at  it  meditatively. 

"Nine  thousand  shares,"  continued  Jim.     "If 


70  The  Short  Line  War 

there's  anything  he  can  do  now,  he's  welcome 
to  try." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  try  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he'll  come  at  us  with  something  or 
other.  But  he  can't  do  a  thing." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  Harvey  said, — 

"  You  didn't  pay  cash  for  the  stock  ? " 

"Ten  per  cent,"  Jim  replied. 

Harvey  fingered  his  cigar.  Every  new  move 
of  Jim's  bewildered  him.  Jim's  imperturbability, 
and  his  eagerness  for  a  fight  where  some  men 
would  be  discouraged,  were  qualities  that  Har- 
vey was  slow  in  acquiring.  His  admiration  for 
Jim  amounted  almost  to  reverence.  Perhaps 
had  he  realized  the  bitter  fighting  that  was  yet 
to  come,  if  he  could  have  foreseen  the  part  that 
he  was  to  play  with  zeal  and  judgment,  he 
would  have  been  even  more  bewildered,  but 
Harvey  was  plucky  enough ;  it  needed  only  the 
right  circumstances  to  develop  him. 

"  If  he  does  fight,"  said  Jim,  breaking  the 
silence,  "if  he  succeeds  in  landing  on  us,  why, 
then,  look  out  for  war.  I'll  put  my  last  cent 
into  M.  &  T.  before  I'll  give  him  a  chance  at 
it." 

"  Is  he  likely  to  grab  the  road  ? " 


Tuesday  Evening  71 

"  Maybe  he'll  try.  But  I'll  have  five  hundred 
men  with  guns  in  his  way.  I'll  tell  you,  West, 
I'm  not  going  to  give  in.  I  never  have  yet." 

"No,"  said  Harvey,  thoughtfully,  "I  don't 
believe  you  have."  And  he  added,  "I  saw 
Porter  to-night." 

"Where?" 

"Up  at  the  Bismarck.  McNally  was  with 
him." 

"Anybody  else?" 

"  His  daughter." 

"  Pretty  girl,  I  hear." 

"Yes,"  —  Harvey  spoke  slowly,  —  "she  is. 
A  very  pretty  girl.  Her  father  seems  to  be  a 
gentleman." 

"Oh,  Porter's  all  right.  He's  doing  what 
'most  any  man  in  his  place  would  do.  It's 
business.  There's  nothing  personal  in  it." 

"I  suppose  not,"  Harvey  replied.  "It's  still 
a  little  odd  to  me.  I'm  afraid  I'd  want  to  break 
his  head." 

Jim  laughed. 

"  You'll  get  over  that.  I  reckon  you  haven't 
got  anything  against  his  daughter." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Harvey;  "but  that's 
different." 


72  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Oh,  is  it  ?  " 

Harvey  sat  for  a  moment  without  reply,  then 
he  tossed  his  half-smoked  cigar  into  the  ash- 
tray and  rose. 

"  Don't  go,  West.  I  shall  be  up  for  a  long 
while." 

"  I'm  tired,"  Harvey  replied.  "  I  need  sleep. 
Good  night." 

Harvey  walked  home  slowly.  Once  in  his 
room,  he  did  not  light  up ;  instead  he  drew  an 
easy-chair  to  the  window  and  stretched  out 
where  he  could  feel  the  breeze.  It  had  been 
a  strange  evening.  He  went  back  over  the 
conversation  in  the  Bismarck.  Katherine  had 
seemed  even  prettier  than  usual ;  but  before 
every  picture  of  her  rose  the  calm,  smiling 
face  of  McNally  —  McNally  with  his  pudgy 
hands  and  his  cool  blue  eyes,  his  ease  and  his 
well-placed  comment.  Harvey  rested  an  elbow 
on  the  sill  and  looked  out  the  window.  The 
crowds  were  gone  now.  No  sound  came  save 
the  rustle  of  the  leaves  and  the  occasional 
rumble  of  the  elevated  trains.  The  moon  was 
clouded,  but  over  the  trees  the  stars  were  out, 
as  clear  and  soft  as  on  other  evenings  that  had 
not  seemed  so  dreary.  He  turned  away  and 


Tuesday  Evening  73 

walked  over  to  the  mantel,  where  Katherine's 
picture  leaned  against  the  wall.  He  found  it 
without  striking  a  light,  and  brought  it  to  the 
window.  By  the  dim  light  from  the  street  and 
the  sky,  he  could  see  her  face  in  faint  outline. 

"  Well,  Miss  Katherine,"  he  said,  looking  into 
the  shadowy  eyes,  "  I  guess  Jim  Weeks  isn't  the 
only  fighter  here/1 


CHAPTER  VI 

JUDGE   BLACK 

THERE  are  two  kinds  of  business  men :  those 
who  make  their  business  at  once  work  and  play, 
a  means  of  acquiring  wealth  and  a  most  excit- 
ing game  whose  charms  make  all  other  games 
seem  flat  and  unprofitable;  and  another  class 
who,  though  they  may  enjoy  work,  turn  for 
recreation  to  whist  or  philanthropy  or  golf. 
Porter  belonged  to  the  latter  class.  He  went 
into  the  fight  against  Jim  Weeks  simply  because 
he  hoped  it  would  make  him  richer,  and  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  that  he  could  enjoy  the  action. 
On  Wednesday  morning  he  sat  in  his  office 
wondering  if  he  could  not  get  away  to  the 
Truesdale  golf  links  for  a  match  that  afternoon. 

He  looked  over  the  ground  carefully,  and 
could  see  no  way  by  which  Weeks  could  save 
himself  from  defeat,  for  the  control  of  Tillman 
City  gave  C.  &  S.  C.  a  majority  of  the  stock. 
Weeks's  allies  were  deserting  him,  so  that  he 
74 


Judge  Black  75 

now  had  a  bare  majority  in  the  Board  of  Di- 
rectors. Anyway,  McNally  would  be  on  the 
ground  in  case  Jim  should  try  to  do  anything. 
"Well,"  thought  Porter,  "I'll  go.  I  guess 
it's  safe  enough."  He  had  closed  his  desk 
when  the  door  opened  and  an  office  boy  came 
in  with  a  telegram.  Porter  tore  it  open  list- 
lessly, but  his  indolence  vanished  as  he  read 
the  first  line.  The  message  was  from  Man- 
chester, and  it  read  as  follows  :  — 

M.  &  T.  subscription  book  stubs  show  issue  of  nine 
thousand  shares  new  stock  to  Weeks,  Myers,  and  Spencer, 

ten  per  cent  paid,  dated  yesterday. 

POWERS. 

When  a  man  finds  himself  in  an  ambush,  or 
when  an  utterly  unexpected  attack  is  made 
upon  him,  he  shows  what  he  is.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  Porter  that  after  the  moment  of 
dazed  unrealization  had  passed  he  began  almost 
mechanically  to  plan  a  break  for  cover;  he 
wished  that  he  had  not  gone  into  the  fight,  and 
berated  his  stupidity  in  not  foreseeing  the 
move ;  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  the  sub- 
scription for  the  stock  had  not  closed  long 
ago.  After  a  few  minutes  of  vain  search  for 


76  The  Short  Line   War 

an  avenue  of  retreat,  he  saw  that  it  was  too 
late  to  do  anything  but  fight  it  out ;  Jim 
Weeks  was  not  likely  to  let  an  antagonist  off 
easily. 

He  called  to  his  secretary:  "Telephone 
Shields  to  come  over  here,  will  you,  as  soon  as 
he  can?  And  ask  McNally  to  come  too." 
While  he  was  waiting  for  them  he  sat  quite 
still  in  his  big  chair  and  thought  hard,  but  he 
could  see  no  way  of  countering  the  blow. 

The  two  men  he  had  sent  for  came  into  the 
office  together.  Porter  did  not  rise.  With  a 
nod  of  greeting  he  handed  the  yellow  envelope 
to  McNally,  who  whistled  softly  as  he  caught 
its  import,  and  passed  it  on  to  Shields,  an  attor- 
ney for  the  C.  &  S.  C,  an  emotionless,  non- 
committal man. 

"  Hm  —  it  looks  as  though  that  beat  you," 
he  said  slowly. 

Porter  lost  his  nerve  and  his  temper  too  for 
a  moment.  He  rose  quickly  and  took  a  step 
toward  the  lawyer. 

"Hell,  man!"  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "We 
can't  be  beat.  We've  got  to  get  out  of  this 
some  way.  That's  what  you're  here  for." 
Then  he  recovered  himself.  "  I  beg  your  par- 


Judge  Black  77 

don,  Shields.  Sit  down,  and  we'll  talk  this 
business  over." 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  three  men  sat  in 
earnest  consultation ;  then  the  secretary  was 
called  in. 

"  Find  out  if  Judge  Black  is  in  Truesdale," 
said  Porter.  "If  he  is,  I  want  to  talk  to  him." 
Then  he  turned  to  Shields. 

"That's  our  move,"  he  said.  "We  can  al- 
lege fraud  on  the  ground  that  the  stock  was 
issued  secretly  and  with  the  purpose  of  influ- 
encing the  election.  Black's  the  man  for  that 
business." 

"It  isn't  much  of  a  case,  mind  you,"  said 
Shields.  "  I'm  afraid  that  Weeks's  action  is  not 
illegal,  and  that  a  court  would  sustain  it,  but  it's 
possible  to  raise  a  question  that  it  will  take  time 
to  decide." 

"  That's  all  we  need,"  said  Porter,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "  If  we  raise  the  question,  Black  will 
do  the  rest." 

It  was  several  minutes  before  the  secretary 
came  back  from  the  telephone. 

"  Well,  did  you  get  him  ? "  asked  Porter. 

"No,"  said  the  secretary;  "he  isn't  in 
Truesdale." 


78  The  Short  Line   War 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  I  couldn't  find  out.  His  stenographer 
wouldn't  tell  me." 

"  Wouldn't  tell  you,  eh  ? "  said  Porter.  "  Just 
get  Truesdale  again ;  I'll  talk  with  that  young 
man  myself." 

When  he  began  talking  his  voice  was  mild 
and  persuasive,  and  Shields  and  McNally  lis- 
tened expectantly.  As  the  minutes  went  by  and 
he  did  not  get  the  information  he  wanted,  it 
became  evident  that  the  cocksure  young  man  at 
the  other  end  of  the  line  was  rasping  through 
what  was  left  of  Porter's  patience  as  an  emery 
wheel  does  through  soft  iron.  As  might  be 
expected,  the  process  was  accompanied  with 
a  shower  of  sparks.  Porter's  voice  rose  and 
swelled  in  volume  until  at  last  he  shouted,  "You 
don't  care  who  I  am  ?  Why,  you  damned  little 
fool  —  "  and  then  he  stopped,  for  a  sharp  click 
told  him  that  he  was  cut  off,  even  from  the  cen- 
tral office,  and  he  was  not  angry  enough  to  go 
on  swearing  at  an  unresponsive  telephone. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  biting  his  lip  in 
a  nervous  effort  to  control  himself,  then  he 
joined  feebly  in  the  laughter  the  other  two  men 
had  raised  against  him.  A  moment  later  he 


Judge  Black  79 

pulled  out  his  watch,  and  turning  to  McNally 
said :  — 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  Weeks,  will  you  ?  I'm 
going  to  Truesdale  on  the  eleven-thirty  to  find 
Black.  Good-by." 

Katherine  was  not  surprised  when  twenty 
minutes  later  her  father  appeared  and  told  her 
his  plans.  That  was  the  train  she  had  expected 
they  would  take. 

"  I'm  going  along  too,"  she  said.  "  You're 
going  to  play  golf  this  afternoon,  aren't  you  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  her  father,  shortly,  "  I'm  not 
going  to  play  golf.  I'm  going  to  play  some- 
thing else." 

The  five-hour  ride  to  Truesdale  was  for  the 
most  part  a  silent  one.  Katherine  knew  that 
her  father  was  worried  about  something,  and 
when  he  was  worried  he  never  liked  to  talk,  so 
she  asked  no  questions  and  made  no  attempt  to 
draw  him  away  from  what  troubled  him.  Only 
when  they  reached  Truesdale  and  her  father 
was  about  to  help  her  into  the  cart  that  stood 
waiting  she  stopped  long  enough  to  kiss  him 
and  say :  — 

"  Don't  bother  too  much  about  it,  dad.  And 
don't  plan  any  business  for  this  evening;  I 


8o  The  Short  Line   War 

want  you  to  take  me  out  on  the  river."  As  she 
turned  the  cart  around  and  started  up  the  broad 
smooth  street  toward  home  she  frowned,  and 
thought,  "  I  wish  he  would  tell  me  more  about 
things.  I  believe  I  could  help." 

Porter  went  straight  to  Judge  Black's  to  con- 
tinue his  conversation  with  the  stenographer, 
but  it  needed  no  more  than  a  glance  to  convince 
him  of  the  futility  of  trying  to  get  any  informa- 
tion from  that  source. 

The  new  stenographer  was  a  boyish-looking 
person  who  tried  to  convince  one  that  he  was 
much  older  than  his  appearance  would  indicate. 
He  had  big  feet  and  a  high  voice ;  he  used  only 
the  bottom  notes  for  conversational  purposes 
save  when  in  unwary  moments  Nature  would  as- 
sert herself  in  a  hoarse  falsetto.  He  patronized 
Mr.  Porter.  He  said  that  the  Judge  had  left 
town  the  week  before,  and  that  he  would  proba- 
bly be  back  in  about  ten  days.  He  would  send 
him  no  messages  whatever,  from  anybody :  those 
were  Judge  Black's  orders. 

The  young  man  seemed  willing  to  go  on  talk- 
ing at  great  length,  and  he  doubtless  would 
have  done  so  had  not  Porter  suddenly  left  the 
room.  The  Vice-President  had  thought  of  a 


Judge  Black  8 1 

possible  clew.  He  walked  rapidly  to  the  rail- 
road ticket  office  and  spoke  to  the  agent. 

"Did  Judge  Black  leave  town  a  few  days 
ago  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  agent.  "I  don't 
remember  just  what  day,  but  he  went  up  on 
twenty-two." 

"  Oh,  he  went  east  then.  Do  you  remember 
where  ? " 

"  His  ticket  read  to  Chicago." 

Porter  walked  away  thoroughly  disappointed. 
The  chance  had  looked  like  a  good  one  and 
there  seemed  to  be  no  other.  But  he  must  in 
some  way  find  the  Judge  ;  he  could  not  wait  for 
him.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  call  up 
McNally  by  telephone  and  repeat  to  him  what 
the  agent  had  said.  He  told  McNally  to  find 
out  at  what  hotel  the  Judge  had  stayed,  if  at 
any,  and  to  look  for  anything  which  might  prove 
a  clew  to  his  whereabouts.  "  It's  a  wild-goose 
chase,  I  know,"  he  concluded;  "but  then  you 
may  manage  to  turn  up  something."  He 
knew  that  McNally  would  do  everything  that 
could  be  done  in  Chicago  toward  finding  the 
missing  Judge,  so  he  went  to  work  along  other 
lines. 


82  The  Short  Line   War 

Judge  Black  was  a  member  of  two  fishing 
clubs,  one  at  Les  Chenaux  Islands,  near  Macki- 
nac,  and  the  other  about  forty  miles  north  of 
Minneapolis,  so  Porter  sent  long  and  urgent 
telegrams  to  both  these  places.  Then  he  began 
making  long  shots,  working  through  a  list  of 
more  or  less  likely  places,  which  his  knowledge 
of  Black's  tastes  and  habits  enabled  him  to  get 
together.  Just  before  dinner  a  message  came 
from  McNally :  — 

Black  at  Sherman  House  Friday.  Clerk  says  he  took 
three-thirty  train  on  Northwestern  for  Lake  Geneva.  Can 
run  him  down  in  morning. 

Thursday  morning  the  two  little  telegraph 
boys  at  Lake  Geneva  and  the  one  at  William's 
Bay  had  a  busy  time  of  it,  for  Porter  and  Mc- 
Nally between  them  kept  the  wires  hot;  but 
neither  hide  nor  hair  of  Judge  Alonzo  Black 
could  they  discover.  From  ten  o'clock  on 
through  an  interminable  day  the  messages  kept 
coming  back,  'not  delivered.'  At  half -past 
four  Porter  telephoned  his  lieutenant  to  go  to 
the  lake  and  continue  the  search  in  person. 

At  seven  Katherine  and  her  father  sat  down 
to  dinner.  She  had  known  all  day  that  some- 


Judge  Black  83 

thing  was  going  wrong  with  her  father's  affairs, 
and  she  could  read  in  his  silent  preoccupied 
manner  that  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  see 
a  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  She  knew  that  she 
could  not  make  him  forget  his  troubles.  Many 
vain  attempts  had  taught  her  that,  so  she  waited. 
The  long  dinner  wore  on  Porter's  nerves  ;  once 
he  rose  suddenly  and  walked  toward  his  library, 
but  stopped  short  when  he  reached  the  door 
and  came  back  to  the  table.  Then  he  drummed 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"Two  days  more  of  this,"  he  said,  with  a 
nervous  laugh,  "  and  that  man  Black  will  have 
my  life  to  answer  for." 

"Judge  Black?"  asked  Katherine.  "What 
has  he  done  ? " 

"  Done  ?  He's  disappeared  off  the  face  of 
the  earth  just  at  this  particular  moment  when 
I've  got  to  have  him  here." 

"Why,"  cried  Katherine,  "I  know  where  he 
is.  He's  at  the  Grand  View  Hotel  —  "she 
paused  and  leaned  forward,  her  elbows  on  the 
table  and  her  hands  clasped  before  her.  "  It's 
some  place  up  in  Wisconsin  that  sounds  like 
alpaca.  Waupaca  —  that's  it.  Grand,  View 
Hotel,  Waupaca,  Wisconsin." 


84  The  Short  Line   War 

"Are  you  sure  that's  right ?"  he  asked. 
"  How  do  you  know  ? " 

"  Mr.  West  told  me/'  she  answered.  "  There 
was  such  a  good  joke  on  him  in  the  paper.  I 
meant  to  tell  you  about  it." 

But  Porter  was  smiling  over  something  else. 
After  a  moment  he  said :  — 

"We'd  have  been  swamped  long  ago  in  this 
M.  &  T.  business  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  kind 
services  of  that  wise  and  valuable  young  man, 
West.  I  think  I'll  pay  him  a  regular  salary 
after  this  to  keep  him  on  the  other  side  in  all 
\  the  fights  I  get  into.  Lord,  what  a  fool  he  is !  " 

He  left  the  room  so  abruptly  that  he  did  not 
see  how  Katherine's  cheeks  reddened,  nor  how 
her  lips  pressed  together  in  vexation.  If  he 
had  he  would  not  have  known  the  reason  for  it 
any  more  than  Katherine  did. 

Rainbow  Lake  is  pretty  in  the  daytime, 
but  it  is  beautiful  under  the  moonlight  when 
you  can  stretch  out  distances  and  imagine  that 
the  lights  at  Bagley's  Landing  are  those  of  a 
city  twenty  miles  away,  and  when  the  solid  pine 
groves  on  Maple  and  Government  islands  loom 
up  big  and  black.  The  Judge  was  enjoying  his 


Judge  Black  85 

vacation  the  better  for  its  lateness.  He  had 
bolted  his  supper  early  enough  to  secure  his 
favorite  chair  in  the  best  part  of  the  piazza  :  a 
mandolin  orchestra  was  playing  a  waltz  from 
"The  Serenade/'  and  playing  it  well,  the 
Judge  thought.  He  threw  away  the  match 
with  which  he  had  lighted  his  third  cigar —  to 
keep  off  the  mosquitoes,  he  blandly  told  his 
conscience  —  and  leaned  back  in  the  Morris 
chair,  thinking  how  congruously  comfortable  it 
all  was,  now  that  he  had  his  own  clothes  and 
the  'bus  man  could  work  without  soiling  his 
other  suit. 

A  clerk  came  out  of  the  office,  peered  about 
in  the  half  light  for  a  moment,  and  approached 
the  Judge,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Judge  Black/'  he  said,  "Truesdale  wants 
to  talk  to  you  on  the  'phone." 

Five  minutes  later  the  legal  luminary  came 
out  of  the  telephone  box.  He  was  swearing 
earnestly,  but  softly,  out  of  deference  to  the 
candy-and-cigar  girl.  He  walked  slowly  across 
the  office. 

"There's  a  train  for  Chicago  at  8.30,  isn't 
there  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  clerk.  "Do  you  want  to 
take  it  ? " 


86  The  Short  Line    War 

There  was  another  pianissimo  interlude,  at 
the  end  of  which  the  clerk  was  given  to  under- 
stand that  he  should  order  the  'bus  for  that 
train.  Then  the  Judge  went  back  for  his  chair, 
but  it  was  occupied  by  a  little  girl  who  was  just 
too  old  to  be  asked  to  sit  somewhere  else. 

As  Jim  Weeks  had  said,  Thompson  wouldn't 
fight,  and  Porter  realized  this  quite  as  well  as 
Jim.  The  recalcitrant  Vice-President  played  no 
part  in  Porter's  calculations  except  as  a  some- 
what blundering  and  obstinate  tool.  But  on 
Friday  morning  Thompson's  office  boy  an- 
nounced Mr.  Porter.  Porter  stated  his  case 
clearly.  It  was  his  plan  to  remove  Weeks 
and  Myers  by  judicial  order  from  the  Board  of 
Directors.  That  would  leave  the  opposition  a 
majority  of  the  board.  Then  Thompson  was 
to  call  a  meeting  and  assume  control  of  the 
books.  That  done,  the  battle  would  be  decided, 
and  the  election  a  mere  formality.  Thompson 
was  badly  rattled,  for  he  hadn't  a  grain  of  sand 
in  his  composition,  but  in  the  end  he  conquered 
his  fears  and  agreed  to  play  the  part  Porter 
assigned  to  him. 

At  half -past  two  a  disjointed-looking  train 
panted  into  the  Harrison  Street  Station,  and 


Judge  Black  .  87 

Judge  Black  climbed  disconsolately  out  of  the 
smoker.  There  was  a  coating  of  cinders  on  the 
top  of  his  derby  hat;  there  were  drifts  of 
cinders  in  the  curl  of  the  brim;  there  were 
streaks  of  cinders  along  the  lines  where  his  coat 
wrinkled ;  and  there  Was  one  cinder  in  his  left 
eye  which  gave  him  so  leery  and  bibulous  an 
aspect  that  an  old  lady  who  narrowly  escaped 
colliding  with  him  turned  and  looked  after  him 
in  indignation,  being  half  minded  to  go  back 
and  plead  with  him  to  lead  a  better  life. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  later  when  the  Judge 
reached  Porter's  office,  but  before  three  o'clock 
he  had  signed  an  order  enjoining  James  Weeks 
and  Johnson  Myers  from  acting  as  directors  of, 
or  from  interfering  in  any  way  with,  the  affairs 
of  the  corporation  known  as  the  Manchester  & 
Truesdale  Railroad  Company,  and  from  voting 
the  nine  thousand  shares  of  stock  in  that  com- 
pany which  had  been  issued  September  25th. 


CHAPTER  VII 

BETWEEN   THE   LINES 

ON  Friday  afternoon  Harvey  closed  his  desk 
with  a  feeling  of  relief.  There  had  been  plenty 
of  work  for  the  past  few  days,  and  Harvey's 
thoughts  had  acquired  such  wandering  habits 
that  his  work  seemed  harder  than  usual.  He 
had  not  seen  Katherine  since  Tuesday  evening, 
but  another  note,  dated  Thursday  evening,  was 
in  his  coat  pocket.  He  read  it  again :  — 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WEST  :  As  you  have  inferred  from  the 
postmark  I  am  back  at  Truesdale ;  we  returned  Wednes- 
day. I  have  about  despaired  of  seeing  you  here,  at  least 
of  your  own  free  will,  so  I  have  decided  to  kidnap  you. 
Will  you  come  to  a  coaching  party  Saturday  afternoon  — 
or  rather  a  brake  party?  We  shall  start  from  our  house, 
weather  permitting,  at  four  o'clock,  and  drive  out  to  Oak- 
wood,  returning  by  moonlight.  Please  don't  let  any  stu- 
pid business  interfere  with  your  coming  down  and  having 
a  jolly  time. 

Cordially, 

KATHERINE  PORTER. 
88 


Between  the  Lines  89 

Harvey  slowly  folded  the  note  and  replaced 
it  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  spoke  to  Jim. 

"  Mr.  Weeks,  will  you  need  me  to-morrow  ? " 

Jim  looked  up  pleasantly.  Since  the  recent 
issue  of  M.  &  T.  stock,  Jim's  eyes  had  smiled 
almost  continuously. 

"  Guess  not,"  he  replied.     "  Going  away  ? " 

"Just  over  Sunday." 

"  You  aren't  going  anywhere  near  Truesdale, 
are  you  ? " 

"Why,  yes." 

Jim  whirled  around  to  his  desk  and  rum- 
maged through  some  pigeonholes. 

"  I  want  to  get  word  to  a  man  down  there," 
he  said,  —  "some  fellow  that  Fox  talks  about, 
who  has  a  good  team  to  sell.  I  thought  I  had 
his  card.  Well,  never  mind,  Til  call  up  Fox  in 
the  morning  and  get  his  name  and  address. 
Then  if  you  have  time  "  —  Jim  smiled  —  "  you 
might  talk  with  him  and  see  what  they  are. 
Don't  commit  yourself ;  just  size  things  up." 

Harvey  bowed. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  need  come  around  in  the 
morning.  I'll  call  you  up  or  wire  you.  But  don't 
lose  any  dinners  on  account  of  it." 

The  next  morning  Harvey  went  to  Truesdale. 


go  The  Short  Line   War 

The  Oakwood  Club  House  stands  on  a  knoll 
some  eight  miles  up  the  river  from  Truesdale. 
Giant  elms  shade  the  wide  veranda,  while 
others  droop  over  the  white  macadam  drive 
that  swings  steeply  down  to  the  bridge  and 
vanishes  in  a  grove  of  oak,  hickory,  and  birch. 
If  you  stand  on  the  steps  and  look  west,  you 
can  see,  through  the  immediate  foliage,  the 
Maiden  County  hills,  their  blue  tops  contrast- 
ing with  the  nearer  green  of  the  valley.  To 
the  left,  an  obtruding  wing  checks  the  view ; 
on  the  right,  leading  straight  down  to  the  river, 
is  a  well-worn  path. 

After  dinner  the  party  strolled  up  and  down 
the  veranda,  gradually  separating  into  couples. 
The  twilight  creeping  down  found  Harvey  and 
Miss  Porter  alone  by  the  railing.  She  stood 
erect,  looking  out  over  the  valley,  her  scarlet 
golf  jacket  thrown  back,  her  hair  disordered 
by  the  long  ride  and  curling  about  her  face. 
Harvey  watched  her  in  silence.  He  was  glad 
that  she  was  tall;  he  liked  to  meet  her  eyes 
without  looking  down.  He  had  often  tried  to 
remember  the  color  of  those  eyes.  Presently 
she  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"  They're  gray/'  he  said,  half  to  himself. 


Between  the  Lines  91 

"No,"  she  replied;  "sometimes  they  are 
brown  and  sometimes  green.  They  are  not 
gray." 

Harvey  leaned  forward. 

"  I'm  sure  they  are/' 

For  a  moment  they  stood  looking  into  each 
other's  eyes,  then  she  turned  away  with  a  little 
laugh  and  removed  her  sailor  hat,  swinging  it 
from  her  hand. 

"Look,"  she  said,  with  an  impulsive  gesture 
toward  the  west.  Harvey  followed  her  gaze. 
The  dark  was  settling  into  the  valley.  There 
were  splotches  of  foliage  and  waves  of  meadow, 
with  a  few  winding  strips  of  silver  where  the 
river  broke  away  from  the  trees.  "And  to 
think  that  we  have  only  a  few  more  such  days." 

"Yes,"  —  he  spoke  softly,  —  "we  don't  see 
things  like  that  in  Chicago." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  Truesdale  ? " 

"So  long  as  Mr.  Weeks  stays  in  Chicago,  I 
am  likely  to  be  there  too." 

"You  are  fond  of  Mr.  Weeks ?" 

"Yes,  lam." 

"I  never  met  him  —  I've  heard  a  great  deal 
about  him."  She  sat  upon  the  railing  and 
leaned  back  against  a  pillar,  her  eyes  turned  to 


92  The  Short  Line   War 

the  foliage.  "Father  says  he  is  a  good  busi- 
ness man." 

"He  is." 

"Mr.  West,"  she  threw  her  head  back  with  a 
peremptory  toss  —  "I  want  you  to  tell  me 
something." 

"Wait,"  he  replied,  "come  to  the  river. 
Then  I'll  tell  you  anything." 

She  smiled,  but  acquiesced,  and  they  went 
down  the  path.  Harvey  drew  up  a  cedar  boat 
and  extended  his  hand,  but  she  stepped  lightly 
aboard  without  his  aid.  Harvey  pushed  away 
from  the  bank  and  began  slowly  to  paddle 
against  the  current. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "the  Sister  Confessor  may 
proceed." 

She  looked  up  at  him.  He  thought  she  was 
smiling,  but  she  spoke  earnestly. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  about  this  M.  &  T. 
fight." 

"I  don't  believe  there  is  anything  to  tell." 

"You  think  I  am  not  interested." 

"No— not  that." 

"You  men  are  all  alike.  You  think  a  girl 
can't  understand  business."  She  seemed  to  be 
musing.  "  You  like  a  girl  who  is  helpless  and 
fluttery,  who  can  be  patronized/' 


Between  the  Lines  93 

"  No,"  said  Harvey,  "  not  that  either." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me." 

"  How  much  do  you  know  ?  " 

Before  replying  she  looked  out  over  the  water 
for  several  moments.  Harvey  rested  his  oars 
and  waited.  She  turned  to  him,  still  musing. 

"  I'll  be  frank,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  going  to 
say  how  much  I  know,  but  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

Harvey  began  to  row. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have  heard 
father's  friends  talking." 

Harvey  smiled. 

"You  puzzle  me,"  he  remarked. 

"  Why  should  any  one  wish  to  get  control  of 
your  road  ? " 

"  Because  there  is  coal  on  the  line." 

"  Is  Mr.  Weeks  firmly  in  control  ? " 

Harvey  leaned  over  the  oars. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  —  "he  hesitated.  "  Are  we 
good  friends  ? " 

"  I  can  speak  for  myself." 

"  Why  are  you  interested  in  this  business  ? " 

"Because  —  well,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth. 
Of  course  I  know  that  father  and  Mr.  Weeks 
are  —  I  suppose  you  would  call  it  fighting. 


94  The   Short  Line   War 

Father  doesn't  understand  how  I  could  ask  you 
-  down  to-day." 

"  I  am  glad  you  did." 

"  I  wanted  you  to  feel  that  —  you  see  we  have 
been  good  friends,  and  it  would  be  too  bad  to 
let  a  thing  like  this  —  don't  you  understand  ? " 

Harvey  leaned  forward  and  impulsively  ex- 
tended his  hand.  She  drew  back. 

"  Just  shake  hands,"  said  Harvey.  He  clasped 
hers  firmly,  releasing  it  with  a  quiet "  Thank  you." 

They  were  drifting  down  stream  under  the 
trees  with  no  sound  save  a  faint  rustle  from  over- 
head. Strands  of  moonlight,  sifted  through  the 
foliage,  blurring  the  east  bank  into  shadow. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  thinking  of  ? " 
Harvey  asked  in  a  low  tone.  She  smiled  faintly 
and  shook  her  head.  They  swung  into  a  patch 
of  moonlight,  and  for  a  moment  their  eyes  met ; 
then  she  looked  away  and  said,  — 

"  We  must  go  back." 

"  It  isn't  late,"  Harvey  remonstrated. 

"We  must  go  back." 

Harvey  obediently  took  up  the  oars,  then  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Please  don't  stay  here,"  she  said. 

They  went  up  the  path  in  silence.    The  brake 


Between  the  Lines  95 

stood  at  the  steps,  and  the  other  members  of 
the  party  were  laughing  and  talking  on  the 
veranda.  Harvey  stopped  before  they  left  the 
shadow.  Miss  Porter  walked  a  few  steps,  then 
turned  and  faced  him. 

"What  is  the  matter?11  he  asked.  "  Can't 
you  trust  me  ?  Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  " 

She  came  forward  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,"  she  said  with 
hesitation.  "  If  I  were  as  sure  of  myself  as  I 
am  of  you —  Come,  they  are  watching  us." 

An  hour  later  they  stood  at  Mr.  Porter's  door. 

"  Good  night,"  said  Harvey,  but  she  lingered. 

"  Shall  I  see  you  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  had  better  come  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Perhaps  your  father  —  " 

"  I  want  you  to.  Anyway,"  smiling,  "  father 
is  in  Chicago." 

Harvey  smiled  too. 

"  I'll  send  the  trap  for  you,  and  we'll  drive  — 
at  ten,  say.  I  suppose  you  are  at  the  hotel." 

"  Yes,"  said  Harvey.     "  Good  night." 

Mr.  Porter's  summer  home  was  located  on 
the  river  bank,  something  less  than  a  mile  from 


g6  The  Short  Line   War 

the  Truesdale  Hotel.  The  walk  was  somewhat 
lonely,  and  it  gave  Harvey  time  to  think.  At 
first  he  was  bewildered.  She  had  seemed  to 
be  mistress  of  the  situation,  but  at  any  rate  he 
had  told  her  nothing  about  M.  &  T.  affairs. 
There  came  into  his  mind  a  suspicion  that  she 
knew  more  than  she  had  led  him  to  believe,  for 
she  would  naturally  not  let  a  man  who  had  no 
claim  upon  her  sway  her  loyalty  to  her  father. 
And  yet,  those  eyes  were  honest.  They  had 
looked  into  his  with  an  expression  that  would 
charm  away  graver  doubts  than  his.  "I'll 
make  her  tell  me/'  he  thought.  "  I'll  find  out 
to-morrow  just  what  she  means,  and  if  —  "  In 
spite  of  himself,  Harvey's  heart  beat  fast  at 
thought  of  the  possibilities  which  lay  behind 
that  "if."  From  doubt,  he  drifted  back  into  a 
review  of  the  evening.  He  called  up  pictures  of 
her  on  the  brake,  on  the  boat,  or  on  the  shaded 
path.  When  he  reached  the  hotel  he  sat  down 
on  the  veranda  and  lighted  a  cigar.  "Yes,"  he 
repeated  to  himself,  "  I'll  make  her  tell  me." 
But  in  the  morning,  after  a  more  or  less  steady 
sleep,  Harvey  looked  out  at  the  calm  sunlight 
and  changed  his  mind.  "  I'll  wait,"  he  thought, 
"and  see  what  happens." 


Between  the  Lines  97 

At  ten,  the  Porter  trap  stood  in  front  of  the 
hotel,  and  Harvey  climbed  into  the  trap  and 
took  the  reins.  As  he  started,  a  telegraph  boy 
ran  down  the  steps  calling  to  him.  Harvey 
took  the  yellow  envelope  and  with  a  thought  of 
Jim's  errand  he  thrust  it  between  his  teeth,  for 
the  horses  were  prancing.  Later  he  stuffed  it 
into  his  pocket  until  he  should  reach  the  Por- 
ters'. The  drive  was  exhilarating,  and  by  the 
time  he  pulled  up  in  the  porte-coch&re  he  had 
himself  well  in  control.  She  did  not  keep  him 
waiting,  and  they  were  soon  whirling  down  the 
old  river  road. 

Katherine  was  in  a  bright  mood.  For  a 
space  they  talked  commonplaces.  Harvey 
thought  of  the  telegram,  but  dared  not  take  his 
attention  from  the  horses  until  they  should  run 
off  a  little  spirit,  so  he  let  theirf  go. 

"  Isn't  it  splendid,"  she  said,  drawing  in  the 
brisk  air  and  looking  at  the  broad  stream  on 
their  right.  "Do  you  know,  I  never  see  the 
river  without  thinking  of  the  old  days  when  this 
country  was  wild.  It  seems  so  odd  to  realize 
that  Tonty  and  La  Salle  paddled  up  and  down 
here.  They  may  have  camped  where  we  are 
now.  Sometimes  in  the  evenings  when  we  are 


98  The  Short  Line   War 

on  the  river,  I  imagine  I  can  see  a  line  of 
canoes  with  strange,  dark  men  in  buckskin,  and 
painted  Indians,  and  solemn  old  monks,  with 
Father  Hennepin  in  the  first  canoe.  So  many 
curious  old  memories  hover  over  this  stream." 

The    horses    were    slowing.      Harvey    said 
abruptly,  — 

"  Will  you  mind  if  I  open  a  telegram  ? " 
"  Certainly  not."  She  reached  out  and  took 
the  reins.  Harvey  opened  the  envelope  with 
his  thumb.  He  read  the  message  twice,  then 
lowered  it  to  his  knees  with  a  puzzled  expres- 
sion. 

"  Bad  news  ? "  asked  Miss  Porter. 
"  I  don't  know.     Read  it  if  you  like." 
She    handed   back  the   reins  and   read  the 
following :  — 

MR.  HARVEY  WEST: 

You  are  receiver  M.  &  T.     Come  to  Manchester  at 
once. 

WEEKS. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  think?" 
She  slowly  folded  the  paper  and  creased  it 
between  her  fingers. 

"  Can  you  make  it  ? "  she  asked. 


Between  the  Lines  99 

Harvey  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Train  goes  at 
eleven.  I've  got  thirteen  minutes." 

"Turn  around.     It's  only  three  miles.     We 

can  do  it." 

» 

Harvey  pulled  up  and  turned.  Then  he  hesi- 
tated. 

"How  about  the  team?"  he  said;  "I  can't 
take  you  home." 

"  Never  mind  that.  Quick ;  you  can't  lose  any 
time.  I'll  get  the  team  back." 

Harvey  nodded  and  gripped  the  reins,  and  in 
a  moment  the  bays  were  in  their  stride.  Har- 
vey's hands  were  full,  and  he  made  no  effort  to 
talk.  Miss  Porter  alternately  watched  him  and 
the  horses. 

"  They  can  do  better  than  that.  You'll  have 
to  slow  up  in  town,  you  know."  And  Harvey 
urged  them  on. 

As  they  neared  the  town,  Harvey  spoke. 

"Will  you  look  at  my  watch ? " 

She  threw  back  his  coat  and  tugged  at  the 
fob  until  the  watch  appeared.  "  Three  minutes 
yet.  We're  all  right." 

But  a  blocked  electric  car  delayed  them,  and 
they  swung  up  to  the  platform  just  at  tram- 
time.  Harvey  gripped  her  hand :  — 


ioo  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Good-by.     I  shan't  forget  this." 

But  though  her  eyes  danced,  she  only  an- 
swered, "  Please  hurry !  " 

As  Harvey  dropped  into  a  seat  and  looked 
out  the  car  window,  he  saw  her  sitting  erect, 
holding  the  nervous  team  with  firm  control. 
And  he  settled  back  with  a  glow  in  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

JUDGE   GREY 

ON  Friday,  after  Jim  Weeks  had  told  Har- 
vey that  he  was  free  to  go  to  Truesdale,  he  fol- 
lowed the  young  man  almost  fondly  with  his 
eyes  and  he  did  not  at  once  resume  the  work 
which  awaited  him.  For  Harvey's  request  had 
set  him  thinking.  During  years  that  passed 
after  the  day  when  he  took  his  last  drive  with 
Ethel  Harvey,  he  had  not  dared  to  think  of  her. 
Later  when  he  heard  of  her  death,  he  did  not 
try  to  analyze  the  impulse  which  led  him  to 
offer  a  position  to  Harvey.  As  he  grew  to 
know  the  young  fellow  he  gradually  admitted 
to  himself  his  fondness  for  him,  and  now  that 
he  believed  that  Harvey  was  in  love,  he  allowed 
himself  for  the  first  time  the  luxury  of  reminis- 
cence. 

The  old  Louisville  days  came  back  to  him 
when  he  and  Ethel  rode  together  through  coun- 
try lanes  and  he  loved  her.  The  wound  was 


102  The  Short  Line   War 

healed;  it  had  lost  its  sting  a  score  of  years  ago, 
but  his  mood  was  still  tender,  and  as  he  stared 
"ktfttte'pile  of  papeYs  on  his  desk,  thoughts  of 
C.  &  S.  C.  were  far  away.  At  last,  however, 
the  consciousness  of  this  came  upon  him  and 
he  thought,  "I  reckon  I  need  exercise,"  and 
then  a  moment  later,  "  It'll  be  quite  a  trick, 
though,  to  find  a  horse  that's  up  to  my  weight." 

He  had  hardly  taken  up  his  work  when  Pease 
appeared  and  told  him  that  a  man  wanted  to 
see  him.  The  man  was  a  deputy  sheriff,  and  he 
came  to  serve  on  James  Weeks  the  injunction 
which  Judge  Black  had  signed  in  Porter's  office 
two  hours  before. 

It  may  be  that  his  earlier  mood  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  it ;  for  as  Jim  laid  the  paper 
on  his  desk,  his  thoughts  went  back  half  a  cen- 
tury to  one  of  his  boyhood  days.  It  was  a 
summer  afternoon,  and  Jim  and  some  of  his 
friends  had  been  in  swimming;  somehow  it 
became  necessary  for  him  to  fight  Thomas  Ran- 
some.  Jim  had  never  been  in  a  fight  before, 
and  he  had  no  theories  whatever,  but  he  found 
that  he  could  hit  hard,  and  it  never  occurred  to 
him  to  try  to  parry.  Thomas  was  forced  to 
give  back  steadily  until  his  farther  retreat  was 


Judge  Grey  103 

cut  off  by  the  river  and  he  saw  that  more  vig- 
orous tactics  were  required.  With  utter  disre- 
gard of  the  laws  of  war  he  drove  a  vicious  kick 
at  Jim's  stomach.  Had  it  landed,  its  effect 
would  probably  have  been  serious,  but  Jim,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  fight  began,  stepped 
back,  and  with  both  hands  gave  additional  im- 
petus to  the  foot,  so  that  Thomas  kicked  much 
higher  than  he  had  intended,  and  losing  his  bal- 
ance, he  toppled  into  the  river  with  a  very  sat- 
isfactory splash. 

Jim  smiled  at  the  recollection  and  then  read 
the  injunction  again  to  see  if  it  were  possible  to 
catch  Porter's  foot.  His  eye  rested  long  on 
the  sputtery  signature  at  the  bottom,  and  he 
thought,  "I  might  have  known  that  Porter 
wouldn't  go  into  this  business  without  owning  a 
Judge." 

He  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket,  then  locked 
his  desk,  and  with  a  word  to  Pease  he  left  the 
office.  Jim  dined  down  town,  and  not  until 
after  dinner  did  he  think  of  Harvey  and  his 
leave  of  absence.  He  would  need  his  secretary 
to-morrow,  and  it  would  not  do  to  have  him  out 
of  reach.  But  the  moments  of  reminiscence 
that  afternoon  came  to  Harvey's  rescue,  and  Jim 


IO4  The  Short  Line   War 

in  the  most  unbusinesslike  way  decided  to  get 
on  without  his  secretary.  "  He  can't  go  through 
that  but  once,"  thought  Jim. 

He  left  the  restaurant  and  walked  rapidly  to 
the  Northern  Station,  and  for  the  second  time 
that  week  the  Northern  Limited  took  Jim  to 
Manchester. 

Jim  was  going  to  see  Judge  Grey.  He  had 
already  decided  what  he  wanted  the  Judge  to 
do;  whether  he  could  get  him  to  do  it  was 
another  question,  which  Jim  was  going  to  put 
to  the  test  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  trains  on  the  Northern  in  coming  into 
Manchester  run  down  the  middle  of  one  of  the 
main  business  streets,  and  engineers  are  com- 
pelled by  city  statutes  to  run  slowly.  As  the 
Limited  slowed  down,  Jim  walked  out  on  the 
rear  platform  and  stood  gazing  at  the  brightly 
lighted  shop  windows.  At  an  intersecting  street 
he  saw  a  trolley  car  waiting  for  the  train  to  pass ; 
the  blue  light  it  showed  told  Jim  it  was  the  car 
he  wanted,  so  he  swung  quickly  off  the  train 
and  stepped  aboard  the  car  as  it  came  bumping 
over  the  crossing.  It  was  evidently  behind  its 
schedule,  for  once  on  clear  track  again  it  sped 
along  rapidly.  A  man  was  running  to  catch 


Judge  Grey  105 

the  car,  and  Jim  watched  him  with  amused  in- 
terest. At  first  he  gained,  but  as  the  speed  of 
the  car  increased  he  gave  up  the  race ;  but  he 
had  come  near  enough  for  Jim  to  recognize 
him  as  the  man  who  had  dined  only  a  few  tables 
from  him  that  evening  in  Chicago  and  who  had 
sat  a  few  seats  behind  him  on  the  Limited. 
Jim  smiled.  "  They're  mighty  anxious  to  know 
what  I'm  doing,"  he  thought. 

Judge  Grey  did  not  go  away  on  vacations. 
He  was  a  homely  man,  with  a  large  family,  and 
he  took  serious  views  of  life.  He  was  country 
bred,  and  he  had  never  outgrown  a  certain 
rusticity  of  appearance.  It  was  said  that  his 
wife  always  cut  his  hair,  and  the  concentric 
circles  made  by  the  neatly  trimmed  ends  lent 
verisimilitude  to  the  tale  that  she  began  at  the 
crown  with  a  butter  dish  to  guide  her  scissors, 
then  extended  the  diameter  of  her  circle  by  using 
next  a  saucer,  and  last  a  soup  bowl. 

The  Judge  greeted  Jim  warmly,  invited  him 
into  the  library,  and  sat  down  to  hear  what  he 
had  to  say.  Jim  told  him  almost  without  res- 
ervation the  story  of  the  fight  for  the  posses- 
sion of  M.  &  T.,  beginning  with  his  large 
investment  in  the  road  and  his  election  to  the 


io6  The  Short  Line   War 

presidency  of  it.  He  did  not  try  to  make  a 
good  story;  he  told  what  had  happened  as 
simply  and  briefly  as  possible,  and  he  interested 
Judge  Grey.  Part  of  it  was  already  known  to 
him,  and  part  filled  in  gaps  in  his  knowledge. 
To  him  it  was  the  story  of  an  honest  struggle 
for  something  worth  struggling  for.  When 
it  came  to  the  latest  move,  and  Jim  without 
comment  handed  him  Black's  injunction,  the 
Judge's  wrath  flamed  out. 

"That's  an  outrage!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's 
just  a  legal  hold-up." 

"  Possibly,"  said  Jim.  "  It  was  the  best  move 
they  could  make,  though.  But,"  he  went  on 
after  a  short  pause,  "  I've  got  the  right  in  this 
business,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"You  want  me  to  dissolve  the  injunction, 
I  suppose,"  said  the  Judge,  cautiously.  . 

"No,"  said  Jim.  "I  don't.  Just  the  other 
way.  I'd  like  you  to  issue  an  injunction  that 
will  go  a  little  farther." 

There  was  another  short  pause,  and  then 
Jim  began  explaining  his  plan.  As  he  ex- 
plained and  argued,  the  fire,  which  had  been 
crackling  cheerfully  when  he  came  in,  flickered 
more  and  more  faintly,  and  it  was  but  a  fading 


Judge  Grey  107 

glow  when  that  most  informal  session  of  the 
Circuit  Court  in  chancery  sitting  came  to  its 
conclusion. 

"That's  all  right,  then,"  said  Jim  at  length, 
rising  as  he  spoke. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other.  "We'll  do  it  that 
way.  Are  you  going  right  back  to  Chicago, 
Mr.  Weeks?" 

"  No,"  said  Jim.  "  I  shall  be  here  for  some 
time.  From  now  on  this  fight  will  be  along 
the  line  of  the  road." 

Mr.  Wing  was  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  his 
office  boy's  superiority.  He  read  disapproba- 
tion in  the  round-eyed  stare,  and  even  the  cut- 
steel  buttons,  though  of  Wing's  own  purveying, 
seemed  arguslike  in  their  critical  surveillance. 
He  would  have  abolished  them  had  he  not  felt 
that  the  boy  would  understand  the  change.  If 
the  boy  had  only  forgotten  to  copy  letters  or 
had  manifested  an  unruly  desire  to  attend  his 
relatives'  funerals,  his  employer  would  have 
been  a  happier  man.  As  it  was,  he  felt  apolo- 
getic every  time  he  came  in  late  or  went  out 
early. 

The    directors'    meeting  which    Porter    and 


io8  The  Short  Line   War 

Thompson  had  decided  upon  on  Friday  was  to 
take  place  the  next  afternoon  in  Wing's  office ; 
so,  contrary  to  the  little  man's  custom  on  Satur- 
day afternoons,  he  returned  thither  after  lunch. 

Porter  and  Thompson  were  already  there, 
and  the  former  was  giving  the  Vice-President 
his  last  instructions,  with  the  evident  purpose 
of  stiffening  him  up  a  bit.  For  Thompson 
seemed  to  need  stiffening  badly.  One  by  one, 
and  two  by  two,  the  directors  came  straggling 
in,  and  presently  Porter,  with  a  parting  injunc- 
tion to  Thompson,  left  the  room  and  crossed 
over  to  McNally's  office,  where  his  lieutenant 
was  waiting  for  him.  There  they  plotted  and 
planned  and  awaited  the  result  of  the  directors' 
meeting  across  the  hall. 

In  Wing's  office  the  meeting  was  about  to 
begin.  It  was  easy  to  distinguish  between 
Jim's  friends  and  the  C.  &  S.  C.  people ;  for  the 
former,  a  doleful  minority,  were  crowded  in  one 
corner  doing  nothing  because  there  was  nothing 
they  could  do,  while  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room  were  the  gang,  with  Thompson  in  the 
centre,  talking  in  low  tones  over  the  programme 
of  the  meeting.  There  seemed  to  be  no  hope 
whatever  that  the  President  would  be  able  to 


Judge  Grey  109 

save  himself,  for  his  opponents  had  a  clear 
majority  of  two,  and  they  were  met  to-day  to 
press  this ,  advantage  to  the  utmost.  Had  Jim 
been  there  at  hand,  his  cause  would  not  have 
seemed  to  his  friends  so  desperate,  for  it  was 
hard,  looking  at  him,  to  imagine  him  defeated ; 
his  very  bulk  seemed  prophetic  of  ultimate  vic- 
tory. But  Jim  was  not  there ;  he  was  not  even 
in  Chicago. 

There  was  one  man  in  the  minority  group 
who  seemed  somewhat  less  cheerless  than  his 
companions.  When  they  asked  him  what  hope 
there  was,  what  way  of  escape  he  saw,  he  could 
not  answer,  but  he  still  professed  to  believe  that 
the  President's  downfall  was  not  so  imminent 
as  it  seemed.  And  the  thought  that  perhaps 
this  one  man  knew  more  than  he  could  tell  kept 
the  minority  from  becoming  utterly  discouraged. 
The  foundation  for  his  hopes  lay  in  a  telegram 
he  had  received  that  morning  from  Jim,  which 
read,  "  Don  t  get  scared,  everything  all  right." 
Evidently  Jim  was  not  submitting  tamely,  but 
whatever  was  going  to  happen  must  happen 
soon  if  it  was  not  to  be  too  late,  for  Thompson 
was  already  calling  the  meeting  to  order.  As 
the  directors  seated  themselves  about  the  long 


no  The  Short  Line  War 

table  and  listened  to  Thompson's  opening  re- 
marks,—  Thompson  liked  to  make  remarks, 
—  it  seemed  that  for  once  in  his  life  Jim  was 
beaten. 

At  that  moment,  in  the  arched  entrance  to 
the  Dartmouth,  a  man  whose  damp  forehead 
and  limp  collar  bore  witness  that  he  was  in  a 
hurry,  turned  away  from  the  wall  directory  he 
had  been  scrutinizing  and  entered  the  nearest 
elevator. 

"  Six/'  he  said.  Once  on  the  sixth  floor  he 
looked  about  for  a  minute  or  two  and  walked 
into  the  outer  office  where  Buttons  was  on 
guard,  demanding  audience  with  Mr.  Wing. 

"  Mr.  Wing  is  in,"  said  the  boy,  "  but  he  is 
engaged  and  can't  be  disturbed." 

"They're  here,  are  they?"  said  the  man. 
"Well,  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Wing  and  Mr. 
Thompson  and  Mr.  Powers." 

"But  you  can't  see  them,"  was  the  answer. 
"  There's  a  directors'  meeting  in  there." 

"In  there,  eh?"  said  the  man,  and  without 
further  parley  with  Buttons,  he  entered  the 
room  indicated,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

Meanwhile  Porter  and  McNally  in  the  other 
office  were  discussing  probabilities  and  possi- 


Judge  Grey  in 

bilities  and  thinking  of  a  good  many  others 
which  neither  of  them  cared  to  discuss,  though 
all  were  in  their  way  pleasant.  Suddenly  they 
were  interrupted  by  the  apparition  of  Buttons. 
His  eyes  were  rounder  than  ever,  and  his  white 
hair  looked  as  though  some  one  had  tried  to 
drag  it  out  of  his  head. 

"  Please,  sir/*  he  gasped,  "  Mr.  Thompson 
wants  to  see  you  right  away." 

Porter  jumped  to  his  feet  and  fairly  ran  out  of 
the  room.  As  he  turned  into  the  hall  a  muffled 
uproar  greeted  his  ears,  and  it  made  him 
hurry  the  faster.  But  McNally  stayed  where 
he  was.  He,  too,  heard  the  strange  noise,  but 
he  felt  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  do  any 
good  by  going  in  there.  McNally  did  not 
"come  out  strong"  amid  scenes  of  violence. 
His  heart  troubled  him. 

It  was  not  more  than  five  minutes  before 
Porter  came  back.  His  face  was  a  study. 

"They're  raising  hell  in  there,"  he  said. 
"  Weeks* s  judge  has  just  served  an  injunction 
that  kicks  Thompson  and  Wing  and  Powers  off 
the  board.  Thompson  just  curled  up, — he 
was  almost  too  scared  to  breathe,  —  and  Wing 
seemed  to  be  having  some  sort  of  a  fit.  There 


112  The  Short  Line  War 

was  one  idiot  up  on  the  table  yelling  that  the 
meeting  was  adjourned  and  trying  to  give 
three  cheers  for  Weeks."  (It  was  the  man 
with  the  telegram.) 

"Well,"  said  McNally,  "what's  going  to. 
happen  next?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Porter,  breathlessly. 
"I  don't  see  that  anything  can  happen.  As 
things  stand  now  there  isn't  a  quorum  of 
directors  and  all  the  officers  are  suspended. 
The  road  can't  do  business." 

Suddenly  he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  and 
exclaimed :  — 

"By  George,  if  that  road  doesn't  need  a 
receiver,  no  road  ever  did.  Telephone  Judge 
Black  quick.  We'll  get  in  ahead  of  Weeks  this 
time." 

There  was  no  delay  in  finding  the  Judge. 
Porter  had  indicated  to  him  the  advisability  of 
keeping  himself  on  tap,  as  it  were,  and  he  was 
now  prepared  to  settle  with  neatness  and  de- 
spatch the  legal  affairs  of  his  employers.  Before 
dark  that  afternoon  he  had  regularly  and  with 
all  necessary  formality  appointed  Frederick 
McNally  to  be  receiver  for  the  Manchester  & 
Truesdale  Railroad  Company. 


Judge  Grey  113 

But  it  was  significant  of  Jim  Weeks's  foresight 
that  the  road  already  had  a  receiver,  for  at  that 
very  moment  he  had  in  his  pocket  an  order 
from  Judge  Grey  appointing  Harvey  West  to 
that  position. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE   MATTER   OF   POSSESSION 

THE  M.  &  T.  terminal  station  at  Manchester 
was  in  reality  two  buildings.  From  the  street, 
it  looked  like  an  ordinary  three-story  office 
building,  except  that  there  were  no  stores  on 
the  street  level.  Instead,  the  first  floor  was 
taken  up  by  two  large  waiting  rooms,  the  ticket 
office,  and  a  baggage  room.  Entering  through 
the  big  doorway  in  the  centre,  you  ascended  a 
few  steps,  passed  through  the  waiting  room, 
then  up  some  more  steps  and  across  a  covered 
iron  bridge  which  spanned  a  narrow  alley. 
This  bridge  connected  the  station  proper  with 
the  train  shed. 

The  offices  of  the  company  occupied  the  two 
upper  floors.  The  same  stairway  that  led  to 
the  bridge  doubled  on  itself  and  zigzagged  up 
the  rest  of  the  way.  As  you  reached  the  sec- 
ond floor,  the  office  of  the  Superintendent  was 
before  you,  across  the  hall.  To  your  right 
114 


The  Matter  of  Possession  1 1 5 

were  large  rooms  occupied  by  various  branches 
of  the  clerical  force,  while  to  your  left  the  first 
door  bore  the  word  "  Treasurer/'  and  the 
second  was  lettered  "  President/'  The  Treas- 
urer's office  was  a  large  room,  cut  off  at  the 
rear  by  a  vault  which  contained  the  more  valu- 
able of  the  company's  books  and  papers :  the 
main  vault  was  downstairs.  A  narrow  passage 
between  the  vault  and  the  partition  led  to  a 
small  window  which  overlooked  the  train  shed 
and  the  alley.  On  one  side  of  this  passage 
was  the  vault  entrance,  on  the  other  was  a  door 
which  had  been  cut  through  the  partition  into 
the  President's  private  office. 

Early  on  Monday  morning,  after  a  brief 
survey  of  the  various  officers  and  a  few  words 
with  the  Superintendent,  Harvey  assumed  the 
direction  of  the  road  and  established  himself 
in  the  President's  room,  while  a  big  deputy  sat 
at  the  desk  in  the  outer  office.  The  night 
before,  at  the  Illinois  House,  Jim  and  Harvey 
had  talked  until  late,  discussing  every  detail 
of  the  situation.  Jim  had  gone  over  the  fight 
of  Saturday,  winding  up  with  a  few  words  of 
advice. 

"We'll    have    trouble,"    he    said.      "Porter 


Ii6  The  Short  Line    War 

isn't  going  to  let  things  slip  away  any  easier 
than  he  has  to.  The  safe  plan  is  to  suspect 
everything  and  everybody.  Keep  everything 
in  sight.  I'll  be  here  to  help,  but  from  now 
on  you  represent  the  road." 

Harvey  arranged  the  desk  to  suit  him,  then 
he  opened  the  small  door  behind  him  and 
crossed  the  passage.  The  vault  door  was 
open,  but  a  steel  gate  barred  the  way.  A  key 
hung  by  the  window,  and  as  Harvey  unlocked 
the  gate  and  swung  it  open,  a  bell  rang.  He 
examined  the  shelves,  and  noted  that  the  books 
were  in  place.  He  knew  that  the  possession 
of  those  books  meant  practically  the  possession 
of  the  road. 

Reentering  his  office  he  found  the  deputy 
standing  in  the  other  doorway. 

"  Gentleman  to  see  you,  Mr.  West,"  said  the 
deputy.  "Won't  give  his  name.  Says  it's 
important." 

"  Show  him  in,"  Harvey  replied. 

The  deputy  stepped  back  and  made  way  for 
a  quiet-looking  man  who  was  even  larger  than 
himself.  The  newcomer  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

"Mr.  West/'  he  said,  "Mr.  Weeks  ordered 


The  Matter  of  Possession  117 

me  to  report  to  you.  I'm  Mallory,  from  the 
Pinkerton  agency.  I  have  three  men  outside. 
Have  you  any  instructions  ? " 

Harvey  checked  a  smile.  It  reminded  him 
of  the  stories  of  his  boyhood.  But  in  a  moment 
it  dawned  upon  him  that  if  Jim  thought  the 
situation  so  serious,  he  must  be  very  careful. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Put  one  man 
near  the  vault  —  here"  —  he  opened  the  small 
door  —  "  let  no  one  go  into  the  vault  without 
my  permission.  Then  you  might  put  one  man 
in  the  hall  —  somewhere  out  of  sight  —  and 
one  outside  the  building.  You  understand  that 
there  may  be  an  attempt  to  get  possession 
of  the  books.  Do  you  know  any  of  the  C.  & 
S.  C.  men  —  William  C.  Porter,  or  Frederick 
McNally?" 

The  detective  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  then,  just  keep  things  right  under 
your  eye,  and  report  every  hour  or  so." 

The  detective  nodded  and  left  the  room. 
A  little  later  Harvey  opened  the  side  door,  and 
saw  a  man  lounging  in  the  passage,  looking 
idly  out  the  window. 

Shortly  after  ten  Jim  came  in  to  talk  things 
over.  He  told  Harvey  that  the  C.  &  S.  C. 


Ii8  The  Short  Line  War 

people  had  a  counter  move  under  way,  but  he 
was  unable  to  discover  its  nature.  He  had 
seen  McNally  in  company  with  a  number  of 
men  who  did  not  often  leave  Chicago.  "  He'll 
be  up  here,  yet/'  Jim  added  prophetically;  and 
he  went  out  without  leaving  word.  "  Don't 
know  how  long  I'll  be  gone,"  was  all  he  would 
say ;  "  but  you'll  see  me  off  and  on." 

Ten  minutes  after  Jim's  departure  McNally 
appeared.  Harvey  heard  his  voice  in  the  outer 
office,  then  the  deputy  came  to  Harvey's  desk. 

"Mr.  Frederick  McNally,"  said  the  official. 
"  He  asked  for  the  Superintendent  first,  and 
I  sent  him  in  to  Mr.  Mattison,  but  he  sent  him 
back  to  you.  Will  you  see  him  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Harvey.  "And  you  may 
stay  in  the  room." 

The  deputy  held  open  the  door,  while 
McNally  entered. 

"How  are  you,  West?"  he  said  brusquely. 
"  There  seems  to  be  some  confusion  here.  The 
Superintendent  disclaims  all  authority,  and 
refers  me  to  you." 

"Sit  down,"  said  Harvey,  waiting  for 
McNally  to  continue.  Evidently  McNally 
preferred  to  stand. 


The  Matter  of  Possession  119 

"I  wish  to  see  some  one  in  authority,  Mr. 
West." 

"  You  may  talk  with  me." 

"  You  —  are  you  in  authority  ? " 

Harvey  bowed,  and  fingered  a  paper-weight. 

"  I  don't  understand  this,  West."  He  glanced 
at  the  deputy.  "  I  wish  to  see  you  alone." 

For  a  moment  Harvey  looked  doubtful,  then 
he  smiled  slightly,  and  nodded  at  the  deputy, 
saying,  — 

"Very  well." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  this  means  ? "  asked 
McNally,  when  the  door  had  closed. 

Harvey  looked  gravely  at  him  and  said 
nothing. 

"  Well  ? "  McNally's  coolness  was  leaving 
him.  "  Are  you  in  control  of  this  road,  or 
aren't  you  ? " 

"lam." 

"In  that  case"  —  he  produced  a  paper — "it 
becomes  my  duty  to  relieve  you." 

Harvey  looked  at  the  paper ;  it  was  an  order 
from  Judge  Black  appointing  McNally  receiver 
for  M.  &  T.  Harvey  handed  it  back,  saying, 
coolly,  — 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  McNally." 


120  The  Short  Line   War 

"I  have  no  time  to  waste,  West.  You  will 
please  turn  over  the  books." 

"They  are  in  the  vault,"  said  Harvey,  point- 
ing to  the  side  door. 

McNally  looked  sharply  at  Harvey,  but  the 
young  man  had  turned  to  a  pile  of  letters. 
After  a  moment's  hesitation  McNally  opened 
the  door  and  pulled  at  the  steel  gate.  As  he 
was  peering  through  the  bars,  a  heavy  hand  fell 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  Here  !  "  said  a  low  voice.  "You'll  have  to 
keep  away  from  that  vault." 

"Take  your  hand  away !  "  McNally  ordered. 

"  Come,  now  !     Move  on ! " 

"  Mr.  West,  under  whose  orders  is  this  man 
acting  ? " 

"His  superior  officer's,  I  suppose,"  Harvey 
called  through  the  door  without  rising. 

"  Call  him  at  once,  sir." 

The  detective  beckoned  to  a  boy,  and  sent 
him  out  of  the  room.  In  a  moment  his  chief 
appeared. 

"  This  man  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Mallory,"  said 
the  detective. 

"What  is  it?  "  asked  Mallory. 

McNally  blustered. 


The  Matter  of  Possession  12 1 

"  I  want  to  know  what  this  means.  Do  you 
understand  that  I  am  the  receiver  of  this  road  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  you  aren't."  Mallory  stepped  to 
the  door.  "  Is  this  true,  Mr.  West  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Harvey,  "  it  isn't." 

"  You'll  have  to  leave,  then,  my  friend." 

"Don't  you  touch  me!  "  McNally's  face  was 
growing  red.  For  reply  each  detective  seized 
an  arm,  and  the  protesting  receiver  was  hustled 
unceremoniously  out  of  the  room. 

An  hour  later  McNally  returned.  He  greeted 
the  deputy  with  a  suave  smile,  and  requested  an 
interview  with  Mr.  West. 

"  I'm  not  sure  about  that,"  said  the  deputy. 

"  That  is  too  bad,"  smiled  McNally. .  "  Kindly 
speak  to  Mr.  West." 

With  a  disapproving  glance  the  deputy  opened 
the  door.  Harvey  came  forward. 

"Well,"  he  said  brusquely,  "what  can  I  do 
for  you  ? " 

McNally  stepped  through  the  door  and  seated 
himself. 

"I've  been  thinking  this  matter  over,  Mr. 
West,  and  I  believe  that  we  can  come  to  an 
understanding.  If  your  claims  are  correct,  the 
road  has  two  receivers.  You  are  nominally  in 


122  The  Short  Line   War 

possession,  but,  nevertheless,  you  are  liable  for 
contempt  of  court  for  refusing  to  honor  my 
authority.  Whichever  way  the  case  is  settled, 
I  am  in  a  position  to  inconvenience  you  for 
resisting  me." 

He  waited  for  a  reply,  but  Harvey  waited,  too. 

"  In  the  interest  of  the  road,  Mr.  West,  it 
would  be  very  much  better  for  you  to  recognize 
me,  even  to  the  extent  of  having  two  receivers. 
It  could  not  affect  the  outcome  of  the  case,  and 
it  might  avoid  trouble." 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you,"  Harvey  replied. 
"  I  shall  retain  control  of  the  road  until  the 
case  is  settled." 

McNally  rose. 

"Then,  I  warn  you,  you  will  have  a  big 
undertaking  on  your  hands." 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"Very  well;  good  morning." 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  McNally." 

At  noon  Harvey  went  out  to  lunch.  He  met 
Jim  at  the  hotel,  and  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened. Jim  smiled  at  Harvey's  seriousness. 

"The  fight  hasn't  begun  yet,"  he  said. 
"  When  you've  been  through  as  many  deals  as 
I  have"  — he  stopped  and  drew  out  his  watch. 


The  Matter  of  Possession  123 

"It's  one-thirty.  You'd  better  get  back.  I'll 
go  with  you  and  look  over  the  field." 

As  they  walked  through  the  waiting  room 
Harvey  fancied  that  he  heard  a  noise  from 
above.  However,  the  noon  express,  out  in  the 
train  shed,  was  blowing  off  steam  with  a  roar, 
and  he  could  not  be  positive.  But  Jim  quick- 
ened his  pace,  and  ran  up  the  steps  with  sur- 
prising agility. 

As  they  neared  the  second  floor  the  noise 
grew.  There  was  scuffling  and  loud  talking, 
culminating  in  an  uproar  of  profanity  and  blows. 
The  first  man  they  saw  was  McNally.  He 
stood  near  the  stairway,  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  face  red  but  composed.  Before  him  was 
a  strange  scene.  Mallory  and  the  big  deputy 
stood  with  their  backs  to  the  Treasurer's  door, 
tussling  with  three  burly  ruffians.  Beyond  the 
deputy,  one  of  the  detectives  was  standing  off 
two  men  with  well-placed  blows.  The  two 
other  detectives  were  rolling  about  the  floor, 
each  with  a  man  firmly  in  his  grasp.  There 
was  a  great  noise  of  feet,  as  the  different  groups 
swayed  and  struggled.  In  the  excitement  none 
of  them  saw  Jim  and  Harvey,  who  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  top  step. 


124  The  Short  Line   War 

A  stiff  blow  caught  the  deputy's  chin,  and 
he  staggered.  With  a  quick  motion  Mallory 
whipped  out  a  pair  of  handcuffs.  There  was 
a  flash  of  steel  as  he  drew  back  his  arm,  then 
the  maddened  rough  went  down  in  a  heap,  a 
stream  of  blood  flowing  from  his  head.  One 
of  the  others,  a  red-haired  man,  gripped  the 
handcuffs  and  fought  for  them.  It  all  hap- 
pened in  an  instant,  and  as  Harvey  stood  half- 
dazed,  he  heard  a  breathless  exclamation,  and 
Jim  had  sprung  forward. 

Some  persons  might  have  thought  Jim  Weeks 
fat.  He  weighed  two  hundred  and  forty  pounds, 
but  he  was  tall  and  wide  in  the  shoulder.  On 
ordinary  occasions  his  face  was  so  composed  as 
to  appear  almost  cold-blooded,  but  now  it  was 
fairly  livid.  Harvey  drew  in  his  breath  with 
surprise;  he  had  seen  Jim  angry,  but  never 
like  this.  In  three  strides  Jim  was  behind  the 
red-haired  man.  He  threw  an  arm  around  the 
man's  neck,  jerking  his  chin  up  with  such  force 
that  his  body  bent  backward,  and  relinquishing 
his  hold  on  the  handcuffs  he  clutched,  gasping, 
at  Jim's  arm.  But  the  arm  gripped  like  iron. 
While  Mallory  was  pulling  himself  together 
and  turning  to  aid  the  deputy,  Jim  walked 


The  Matter  of  Possession  125 

backward,  dragging  the  struggling  man  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  On  the  top  step  he  paused 
to  grip  the  man's  trousers  with  his  other  hand, 
then  he  literally  threw  the  fellow  downstairs. 
Bruised  and  battered,  he  lay  for  a  moment  on 
the  landing,  then  he  struggled  to  his  feet  and 
moved  his  arm  toward  his  hip  pocket,  but  Jim 
was  ready.  The  breathless  President  started 
down  the  stairs  with  a  rush.  For  an  instant 
the  man  wavered,  then  he  broke  and  fled  into 
the  train  shed. 

On  his  return  Jim  had  to  step  aside  to  avoid 
another  ruffian,  who  was  walking  down  with 
profane  mutterings.  This  time  Harvey  had  a 
hand  in  the  fighting,  and  he  leaned  over  the 
railing  to  answer  the  man's  oaths  with  a  threat 
of  the  law.  Jim  and  Harvey  stood  aside  while 
the  four  detectives  and  the  deputy  led  the 
remainder  of  the  gang  downstairs  to  await 
the  police. 

From  the  various  offices  frightened  faces 
were  peering  through  half-open  doors.  A  few 
stripling  clerks  appeared  with  belated  offers  of 
assistance,  but  Jim  waved  them  back.  Already 
Jim  was  cooling  off.  He  could  not  afford  to 
retain  such  a  passion,  and  he  mopped  his  face 


126  The  Short  Line   War 

and  neck  for  a  few  moments  without  speak- 
ing. His  breath  was  gone,  but  he  began  to 
recover  it. 

"Hello,"  he  said,  at  length,  "where's 
McNally?" 

Harvey  started,  then  ran  down  the  hall, 
glancing  hastily  into  the  different  offices.  When 
he  returned,  Jim  had  vanished.  While  he  stood 
irresolute,  two  stalwart  brakemen  appeared 
from  the  train  shed  and  stood  on  the  landing. 
One  of  them  called  up,  — 

"Can  we  help  you,  sir?11 

"Wait  a  minute,1'  said  Harvey. 

A  door  opened  down  the  hall.  Harvey 
looked  toward  the  sound,  and  saw  Jim  backing 
out  of  the  wash-room,  followed  by  McNally, 
whose  arm  was  held  firmly  in  Jim's  grasp. 
They  came  toward  Harvey  in  silence. 

"  He  was  hiding,  West,"  said  Jim,  a  savage 
eagerness  in  his  voice.  "  He  hadn't  the  nerve 
to  stick  it  out.  Corker,  isn't  he  ? " 

McNally  stood  for  a  moment  looking  dog- 
gedly out  through  the  window  over  the  roof  of 
the  shed. 

"You've  got  yourself  into  a  mess,  Weeks," 
he  said,  speaking  slowly  in  an  effort  to  bring 


The  Matter  of  Possession  127 

himself  under  control.  "This'll  land  you  in 
Joliet." 

For  reply  Jim  looked  him  over  contemptu- 
ously, and  tightened  his  grasp  until  the  other 
winced.  Then  he  suddenly  loosened  his  hold, 
stepped  back,  and  calling,  "  Catch  him,  boys !  " 
kicked  McNally  with  a  mighty  swinig. 

Harvey  laughed  hysterically  as  the  flying  fig- 
ure sailed  down  the  stairway,  then  he  heard  Jim 
say  to  the  brakemen,  — 

"Take  him  to  Mallory,  and  tell  him  to  put 
him  with  the  others." 

"Well/*  said  Harvey,  nervously,  "I  guess 
that's  settled." 

"  No,"  said  Jim,  "  it's  only  just  begun.  He'll 
be  on  deck  again  before  night."  The  next  sen- 
tence was  lost  in  the  mopping  handkerchief,  but 
as  he  turned  into  the  office,  he  added,  "We'll 
have  to  lose  the  books  to-night,  West." 


CHAPTER  X 

SOMEBODY  LOSES  THE  BOOKS 

WHEN  Harvey  went  to  dinner  in  the  evening 
he  left  a  force  of  ten  detectives  guarding  the 
offices.  Jim,  who  had  spent  the  afternoon  with 
Harvey,  superintended  the  placing  of  the  men. 
Mallory,  the  lieutenant  in  charge,  was  ensconced 
in  the  Superintendent's  office,  and  six  of  his 
assistants  were  with  him,  privileged  to  doze 
until  called.  One  man  stood  in  the  hall,  in  a 
position  to  watch  the  stairway  and  the  windows 
at  each  end ;  one  patrolled  the  waiting  room ; 
and  the  ninth  man  strolled  about  in  front  of  the 
building,  loitering  in  the  shadows  and  watching 
the  street  with  trained  eye.  Before  leaving  the 
station  Jim  had  a  short  talk  with  Mallory. 

"Watch  it  awful  close,"  he  said.  "There's 
no  telling  what  these  people  will  do." 

"  Very   well,    Mr.   Weeks.     They  won't  get 
ahead  of  us.     But  I  should  feel  a  bit  safer  if 
you'd  let  me  put  a  man  by  the  vault." 
128 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  129 

Jim  shook  his  head. 

"There's  such  a  thing  as  doing  it  too  well, 
Mallory.  And  by  all  means  I  hope  that  you 
won't  do  that" 

He  looked  closely  at  the  detective,  who 
glanced  away  with  a  cautious  nod. 

That  evening  after  dinner,  Jim  telephoned 
for  Mattison,  the  Superintendent,  and  a  long 
talk  ensued  in  Jim's  room  at  the  hotel.  Neither 
he  nor  Harvey  wasted  time  in  recounting  the 
experiences  of  the  day;  they  had  too  many 
plans  for  the  night.  As  Jim  had  said,  it  was 
necessary  to  lose  the  books,  and  to  lose  them 
thoroughly.  It  was  equally  important  that  the 
action  should  not  be  confided  to  any  ordinary 
employee.  The  fewer  men  that  knew  of  it, 
the  safer  Jim  would  be,  and  so  he  finally 
decided  to  confine  the  information  within  its 
original  limits. 

"You  two  are  lively  on  your  feet,"  he  said. 
"  And  it  is  a  good  deal  better  for  you  to  do  it." 

"  How  about  the  detectives  ? "  asked  Matti- 
son. 

"You'll  have  to  keep  out  of  their  way. 
Mallory  won't  trouble  you  so  long  as  you  keep 
still;  but  remember,  every  man,  detective  or 

K 


130  The  Short  Line   War 

not,  that  catches  you,  makes  one  more  chance 
for  evidence  against  us." 

"  But  isn't  the  building  surrounded  ? " 

"  No.  There's  only  one  man  outside,  and  he 
is  in  front.  You  can  go  through  the  alley 
and  climb  up  to  the  window  —  it's  only  the  sec- 
ond floor.  Mallory  has  orders  to  keep  out  of 
the  vault  room.  He's  over  in  your  office,  Mat- 
tison." 

"  I  suppose/'  suggested  Harvey,  "  that  unless 
we  are  actually  caught  with  the  books,  we  can 
throw  a  bluff  about  a  tour  of  inspection  or 
something  of  that  sort." 

"And  if  we  are  caught,"  said  Mattison,  "I 
suppose  we  can  run  like  the  devil." 

"  You'll  have  to  trust  the  details  more  or  less 
to  circumstances,"  was  Jim's  reply. 

"  How  about  the  books  ? "  asked  Harvey. 
"  What  shall  we  do  with  them  ? " 

"  Mattison  had  better  take  care  of  them.  We 
can't  bring  them  to  the  hotel,  and  anyhow,  it  is 
just  as  well  if  you  and  I,  West,  don't  know  any- 
thing about  them.  Then,  when  we  want  them 
again,  it  is  a  good  deal  easier  for  Mattison  to 
find  them  than  for  any  one  else.  Sort  of  acci- 
dent, you  know." 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  131 

It  was  finally  agreed  that  before  attempting 
to  get  the  books,  Harvey  and  Mattison  should 
make  a  bona  fide  tour  of  inspection,  by  this 
means  finding  out  where  each  man  was  located. 
Mattison  reminded  them  that  the  watchman  in 
the  train  shed  was  not  to  be  overlooked,  but 
they  decided  to  chance  him. 

"  There's  one  thing  about  it,"  said  Mattison, 
smiling.  "If  Johnson  doesn't  catch  us,  I  can 
discharge  him  for  incompetency." 

Shortly  after  midnight  Harvey  and  Mattison 
started  out.  They  found  the  station  dark.  As 
they  tiptoed  slowly  along,  edging  close  to  the 
building,  everything  was  silent.  They  reached 
the  arched  doorway,  and  were  turning  in  when 
the  glare  of  a  bull's-eye  lantern  flashed  into 
their  eyes.  Mattison  laughed  softly. 

"  That's  business,"  he  said. 

"What  are  you  up  to?"  growled  the  man 
behind  the  lantern. 

"  Where's  Mallory  ? "  was  Mattison's  answer. 

The  man  hesitated,  then  whistled  softly.  The 
whistle  was  echoed  in  the  waiting  room.  In  a 
few  moments  the  door  opened  and  a  voice  said, 
"What's  up?" 

"  Two  chaps  want  Mallory." 


132  The  Short  Line  War 

Harvey  and  Mattison  still  stood  on  the  stone 
step,  looking  into  the  lantern.  They  could  see 
neither  door  nor  man.  After  a  short  wait,  evi- 
dently for  scrutiny,  the  door  closed.  When  it 
opened  again,  Mallory's  voice  said,  "  Close  that 
light/'  adding,  "Is  anything  the  matter,  Mr. 
West?" 

"  No,"  replied  Harvey.  "  We're  keeping  an 
eye  open.  I  see  your  men  know  their  business. 
Have  you  had  any  trouble  ? " 

"  Everything  is  quiet.  Do  you  care  to  come 
in?" 

Harvey  responded  by  entering,  with  Mattison 
following.  As  they  crossed  the  waiting  room, 
Mallory  drew  their  attention  to  a  shadow  near 
a  window. 

"  One  of  our  boys,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"  I  put  out  all  the  lights.  It  makes  it  a  good 
deal  easier  to  watch." 

Up  in  Mattison's  office  the  detectives  were 
lounging  about,  some  dozing,  some  conversing 
in  low  tones.  The  gas  burned  low,  and  the 
window  shutters  were  covered  with  the  rugs 
from  the  President's  office,  to  keep  the  light 
from  the  street. 

The  two   officials,  after  a  glance   about  the 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  133 

room,  returned  to  the  hall.  Harvey  tried  the 
door  of  each  office,  then  returned  to  Mattison 
and  Mallory.  While  they  stood  whispering,  — 
for  at  night  sound  travels  through  an  empty 
building,  —  there  came  the  sound  of  a  window 
sliding  in  its  sash,  apparently  from  the  Treas- 
urer's office. 

Mallory  paused  to  listen,  then  coolly  turned 
and  continued  the  conversation. 

"  What  was  that  ? "  muttered  Harvey. 

The  lieutenant  affected  not  to  hear  the  remark. 

"Some  one  is  getting  into  the  building/'  Har- 
vey whispered.  Mattison  stepped  lightly  across 
the  hall  and,  bending  down,  listened  at  the  key- 
hole. He  returned  with  an  excited  gesture. 

"  Don't  you  hear  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Mallory.  "I  don't  hear  any- 
thing." 

"  Are  you  deaf,  man  ? " 

"  No,  but  I  think  I  know  when  to  hear." 

It  occurred  to  Harvey  that  Jim  had  done  his 
work  well.  But  then,  Jim's  orders,  however 
brief,  were  always  understood.  Harvey  mo- 
tioned the  others  to  be  silent,  and  tiptoed  across 
the  floor.  He  listened  as  Mattison  had  done, 
then  passed  on  to  the  President's  door.  Cau- 


134  The  Short  Line   War 

tiously  he  drew  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket, 
and  feeling  for  the  right  one  he  slipped  it  into 
the  lock,  threw  open  the  door,  and  darted  into 
the  office.  Mattison  and  the  detective  followed, 
stumbling  over  chairs,  and  colliding  with  the 
door  to  the  inner  office,  which  had  closed  after 
Harvey.  In  the  dim  light  they  could  see  two 
figures  struggling  in  the  passage  by  the  vault. 
While  Mattison  sprang  forward,  Mallory  quickly 
lighted  the  gas. 

The  light  showed  that  Harvey  had  crowded 
the  fellow  up  against  the  vault  door.  The  new- 
comer was  a  medium-sized  man,  rough-faced, 
and  poorly  clad.  On  the  floor  was  a  small 
leather  grip,  which  evidently  had  been  kicked 
over  in  the  scuffle,  for  part  of  a  burglar's  kit 
was  scattered  about  the  passage. 

Mallory  jerked  the  man's  wrists  together, 
slipped  on  the  handcuffs,  and  led  him  out  into 
the  hall.  In  a  moment  the  detective  returned. 

"  I  left  him  with  the  boys,  for  the  present. 
Case  of  common  safe-cracking." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Harvey,  adjusting 
his  cuffs,  and  moving  the  strange  tools  with  his 
foot.  "  If  he  wanted  money,  I  should  think 
he  would  have  tackled  the  vault  downstairs." 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  135 

Mallory  stooped,  and  replaced  the  kit  in  the 
bag.  Suddenly  he  said,  — 

"  Raise  your  foot,  Mr.  West." 

Harvey  did  so,  and  the  detective  arose  with 
a  dirty  paper  in  his  hand.  He  looked  it  over, 
and  handed  it  to  the  others.  It  was  a  rough 
pencil  sketch  of  the  station  building,  showing 
the  alley,  the  window,  the  Treasurer's  office, 
and  the  vault. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? "  asked  Mallory. 

Harvey  turned  it  over.  A  second  glance 
showed  it  to  be  the  front  of  an  envelope,  for 
part  of  an  end  flap  remained.  The  upper  left- 
hand  corner  had  been  torn  off,  evidently  to 
remove  the  return  card,  but  so  hastily  that  a 
part  of  the  card  remained.  Straightening  it 
out,  and  holding  it  up  to  the  light,  Harvey 

read :  — 

esleigh, 

ster,  Illinois. 

Mallory  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"That's  easy.  Hotel  Blakesleigh,  Manches- 
ter, Illinois." 

"  How  does  that  help  you  ? "  asked  Mattison. 

Harvey  lowered  the  paper. 


136  The  Short  Line   War 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  replied.  "There  are  two 
good  hotels  here,  the  Illinois  and  the  Blakes- 
leigh.  McNally  is  not  at  the  Illinois."  He 
turned  to  the  detective.  "  You'd  better  let  the 
fellow  go,  Mallory." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  it  is  the  easiest  way  to  handle  it. 
Keep  the  tools,  though." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,  Mr.  West." 

"Well,  there  is  no  use  in  discussing  it.  We 
won't  prefer  charges." 

"  But  the  man  was  caught  in  the  act." 

"  He  didn't  get  anything,  poor  devil.  No ; 
we're  after  bigger  game  than  this.  We  have 
enough  for  evidence.  And  don't  sweat  him." 

"  This  is  too  deep  for  me,  Mr.  West.  Surely 
there's  no  harm  in  questioning  him,  now  that 
I've  got  him." 

"Can't  help  it,  Mallory.  When  that  man 
reports  to  his  employer,  I  want  him  to  say  that 
we  suspect  nothing  beyond  his  attempt  to  crack 
the  safe." 

The  detective  turned  away  with  a  frown. 

"I  suppose  you  know  your  business,  Mr. 
West." 

Harvey  and  Mattison   followed  him  to   the 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  137 

hall,  closing  the  door  after  them.  They  said 
good  night,  and  left  the  building. 

"See  here,  West,"  said  Mattison,  when  they 
were  fairly  around  the  corner,  "  wasn't  that  a 
little  hasty  ?  It  wouldn't  hurt  to  keep  the  man 
out  of  the  way." 

"  No,  I  don't  agree  with  you.  What  McNally 
has  done  so  far  will  be  upheld  by  his  judge. 
And  another  thing,  Mattison ;  just  at  present, 
it  isn't  to  our  interest  to  get  an  investigation 
under  way.  We're  going  to  do  the  same  thing 
ourselves." 

Slowly  and  cautiously  they  slipped  around 
the  next  square,  and,  by  returning  through  the 
alley,  brought  up  in  the  shadow  of  a  building, 
across  the  street  from  the  train  shed.  Here 
they  waited  to  reconnoitre.  The  night  was 
clear,  and  the  arc-lamp  at  the  corner  threw  an 
intermittent  glare  down  the  street.  As  they 
looked,  a  long  shadow  appeared  on  the  side- 
walk. Mattison  gripped  Harvey's  arm,  and 
drew  him  back  into  the  alley.  They  crouched 
behind  a  pile  of  boxes. 

"It's  like  stealing  apples,"  whispered  Har- 
vey. "  When  the  old  man  gets  after  you  with 
a  stick." 


138  The  Short  Line   War 

"Ssh!" 

The  footsteps  sounded  loud  on  the  stone 
walk.  Then  a  helmeted  figure  passed  the  al- 
ley, and  went  on  its  way. 

Waiting  until  the  sound  died  in  the  distance, 
the  two  stepped  to  the  walk,  looked  hastily 
toward  each  corner,  and  ran  across  the  street. 
Once  in  the  station  alley,  they  paused  again. 

"  Look !  "  said  Harvey,  pointing  ;  "  he  left 
the  ladder." 

Sure  enough,  a  light  ladder  reached  from  the 
ground  nearly  to  a  second-story  window,  which 
stood  open. 

"Well,  here  we  are,"  Mattison  whispered. 
"  How  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  First-class.  Better  let  me  go,  —  I  know 
the  combination." 

Mattison  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and 
steadied  it  while  Harvey  stealthily  climbed  to 
the  window.  Drawing  himself  into  the  passage, 
the  receiver  set  to  work  on  the  vault  lock.  He 
turned  the  knob  very  slowly,  guarding  against 
the  slightest  noise,  but  the  faint  light  that  came 
through  the  window  was  not  enough  to  bring 
out  the  numbers.  Harvey  leaned  back  and 
considered.  The  scratching  of  a  match  would 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  139 

almost  surely  be  heard  by  the  detectives.  He 
leaned  out  the  window,  and  beckoned.  Matti- 
son  came  creeping  up,  and  Harvey  explained 
in  a  few  whispered  sentences.  "  Go  back  and 
look  up  the  street,"  he  concluded.  "We've 
got  to  light  it  outside  the  building." 

While  Mattison  was  gone,  Harvey  felt  his 
way  through  the  Treasurer's  office  and  paused 
to  listen ;  then  he  drew  up  a  chair  which  stood 
near  the  door,  and  climbing  up,  slipped  off  his 
coat  and  hung  it  over  the  half-open  transom. 
Then  he  closed  the  transom,  and  the  room  was 
practically  light  proof.  With  the  same  caution 
he  reached  the  floor,  and  tiptoed  back  to  the 
window,  where  he  found  Mattison  waiting  on 
the  ladder. 

"All  right,"  whispered  the  Superintendent. 
"Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes." 

Mattison  struck  a  match  on  his  trousers  leg, 
shielded  it  with  his  hands,  then  handed  it  to 
Harvey,  who  kneeled  at  the  door  and  began  to 
whirl  the  knob.  Before  he  was  through  the 
light  was  close  to  his  fingers,  and  he  held  another 
match  to  the  flame,  taking  care  to  light  the 
wrong  end.  At  last  the  lock  clicked,  and  Har- 


140  The  Short  Line  War 

vey  opened  the  door  a  few  inches,  then  he  whis- 
pered to  Mattison,  "  If  I  whistle,  you  get  down 
and  I'll  drop  the  books." 

He  swung  the  door  open,  but  stopped  bewil- 
ered.  Before  him  was  the  steel  gate  with  the 
clanging  bell.  However,  the  risk  must  be  run, 
so  motioning  Mattison  to  climb  down  he  drew 
out  his  keys,  and  with  a  match  ready  in  his 
hand  he  jerked  the  gate  open  and  dashed  into 
the  vault.  Striking  the  match,  he  quickly  located 
the  books  he  needed,  carried  them  to  the  win- 
dow and  pitched  them  out.  Then  he  heard  a 
thud  on  the  door.  He  threw  one  leg  over  the 
sill,  but  stopped  —  his  coat  was  still  on  the  tran- 
som. Some  one  was  struggling  to  break  in  the 
door  now,  for  it  shook.  Harvey  sprang  back, 
mounted  the  chair,  and  tore  down  his  coat, 
tumbling  to  the  floor,  chair  and  all,  with  a  clatter. 
A  voice  shouted,  "  Open  the  door,  or  I'll  shoot !  " 
but  Harvey  gave  no  heed.  He  ran  to  the  win- 
dow and  literally  fell  down  the  ladder,  filling  his 
hands  with  slivers.  There  came  a  crash  from 
above,  and  a  muttered  oath,  and  Harvey  knew 
that  the  door  had  given  way.  He  gave  the  lad- 
der a  shove,  and  as  it  fell  upon  the  cobblestones 
with  a  great  noise,  he  turned  and  sped  up  the 


Somebody  loses  the  Books  141 

alley  after  a  dark  figure  that  was  already  near 
to  the  corner. 

He  caught  up  with  Mattison  in  the  next  block, 
and  relieved  him  of  half  the  load.  Then  for  a 
long  time  they  ran  and  doubled,  fugitives  from 
half  a  dozen  detectives  and  a  few  lumbering 
policemen.  At  last  Mattison  turned  up  a  dark 
alley  in  the  residence  district.  Coming  to  a 
board  fence,  he  threw  the  books  over,  then 
climbed  after.  Harvey  followed,  and  found  him- 
self on  a  tennis  court.  Mattison  led  the  way 
through  the  yard,  past  a  dark  house,  and  across 
the  street  to  a  roomy  frame  residence. 

"  Come  in  with  me,"  he  said  to  Harvey. 
"You  can't  go  back  to  the  hotel  now." 

Harvey  laughed  nervously  and  nodded.  Mat- 
tison opened  the  door  with  his  night  key,  and 
with  the  heavy  books  in  their  arms  the  two 
burglars  stole  up  to  bed. 


CHAPTER    XI 

A  POLITICIAN 

ANY  man  whose  interests  are  extensive  and 
diverse  has  sooner  or  later  to  master  the  art  of 
making  other  men  work  for  him,  and  he  must 
be  content  to  trust  the  management  of  a  great 
part  of  his  affairs  to  other  hands.  Jim  Weeks 
loved  to  keep  a  grasp  even  on  the  comparatively 
insignificant  details  of  his  business,  but  he 
showed  wonderful  insight  in  the  selection  of 
his  lieutenants,  and  he  could  impart  such  mo- 
mentum to  his  projects  that  they  moved  forward 
as  he  meant  them  to,  though  his  own  hand  was 
not  guiding  them.  Like  other  men  accustomed 
to  giving  orders,  he  took  it  for  granted  that  his 
directions  would  be  carried  out. 

Bridge,  the  Tillman  City  alderman  to  whom 
he  had  intrusted  the  task  of  watching  Blaney, 
had  worked  for  Jim  long  enough  to  know  that 
this  affair  was  in  his  own  hands,  and  that  some- 
thing more  than  obedience  and  zeal  was  ex- 
142 


A  Politician  143 

pected  of  him.  Though  Jim's  words  had  been 
brief,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  matter  was 
important ;  important  enough  to  give  Bridge  a 
great  opportunity.  He  wanted  to  make  the 
most  of  it,  and,  in  the  excitement  of  laying 
his  plans,  the  design  for  the  stable  was  for- 
gotten. 

As  the  day  wore  on  and  his  scheme  crystal- 
lized, he  fluctuated  between  a  sort  of  exalted 
confidence  and  the  depths  of  nervous  depression. 
He  was  naturally  a  steady,  humdrum  sort  of 
man,  but  he  was  planning  to  do  an  audacious 
thing.  His  chance  had  come,  and  he  meant  to 
take  it.  At  last,  just  before  supper  time,  he 
resolutely  locked  his  office,  and  started  out  to 
see  Blaney.  He  hesitated  a  second  or  two  be- 
fore the  contractor's  house;  then  he  ran  up 
the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  little  girl,  who 
peered  up  at  him  through  the  dusk  with  a 
child's  curiosity.  Bridge  knew  her,  but  he 
was  of  that  kind  of  bachelors  who  are  embar- 
rassed in  the  presence  of  children. 

"  Good  evening,  Louise,"  he  said.  "  Is  your 
father  home  ? " 

"  No,  sir,  he  isn't/'  she  answered. 


144  The  Short  Line  War 

There  was  a  moment  of  awkward  silence,  and 
then  he  stammered,  — 

"Well  —  good  night."  He  bent  down  and 
gravely  shook  hands  with  her,  and  turned  to  go 
down  the  steps,  but  at  that  moment  Blaney  him- 
self appeared. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  Did  you  want 
to  see  me  ? " 

"  If  you've  got  the  time,"  said  Bridge. 

Blaney  led  the  way  into  the  house,  and  mo- 
tioned Bridge  to  a  seat  in  the  parlor.  He  him- 
self paused  in  the  hall  to  swing  Louise  up  to 
his  shoulder  and  down  again. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  to-night?"  he 
asked.  "  You  don't  seem  to  want  to  play.  Are 
you  sick  ? " 

"  A  little,"  answered  the  child.  "  I'm  kind 
of  tired,  and  my  head  hurts." 

He  ran  his  thick  hand  through  her  red  curls, 
and  looked  at  her  anxiously  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  followed  Bridge  into  the  parlor. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Bridge  ?  "  he  asked 
gruffly. 

Bridge  hesitated  a  moment ;  then  he  said, 
"  Jim  Weeks  was  in  town  this  morning." 

Blaney  looked  up  sharply,  and  asked,  "  Did 
you  see  him  ?  " 


A  Politician  145 

"Yes,"  answered  the  other.  "That  is,  he 
came  down  to  see  me.  You  know  the  M.  &  T. 
election  is  coming  pretty  soon  now,  and  he  got 
the  idea  that  our  stock  was  going  to  be  voted 
against  him.  He  wanted  me  to  fix  it  up  so 
things  would  go  his  way  in  the  Council,  and  I 
told  him  that  I'd  do  what  I  could.  I  came 
around  to  you  to  see  if  your  crowd  were  going 
to  do  anything  about  it." 

The  coolness  of  the  inquiry  almost  stupefied 
Blaney,  but  he  managed  to  speak. 

"  I'd  like  to  know,"  he  said,  "what  business 
that  is  of  yours,  anyway." 

"  It's  my  business,  right  enough,"  said  Bridge, 
easily.  "  I  could  ask  the  same  question  in 
Council  meeting,  but  I  thought  it  was  best  to 
talk  it  over  with  you  quietly.  There  isn't  any 
good  in  trying  to  fight  Jim  Weeks,  and  I  should 
think  you'd  know  it.  If  ever  a  man  had  a 
cinch  —  " 

"  What  are  you  up  to,  anyhow  ? "  demanded 
Blaney,  now  thoroughly  exasperated.  "Did 
you  come  around  here  to  try  to  bulldoze  me  ? 
Well,  I'll  just  tell  you  you  may  as  well  save 
your  breath.  Do  you  understand  that  ?  Weeks 
thinks  he  can  come  his  old  bluff  down  here, 

L 


146  The  Short  Line  War 

but  he's  going  to  get  fooled  just  once.  We've 
got  the  backing  that'll  beat  him.  That's  all 
I've  got  to  say  to  you." 

"  Well,  I've  got  a  little  more  to  say  to  you," 
said  Bridge.  "  I  came  around  here  on  my  own 
hook  to  find  out  whether  you  were  just  making 
your  regular  bluff  or  whether  you  meant  to 
fight,  and  I've  found  out.  And  now  I'm  going 
to  give  you  your  choice.  I'll  either  give  you 
the  hottest  scrap  you  ever  had,  and  make  what 
I  can  out  of  Weeks  by  it,  or  I'll  go  in  with  you 
so  you  can  get  your  deal  through  quietly.  You 
can  take  your  choice." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  mean  just  this.  That  if  there's  any  pos- 
sible show  of  kicking  that  damned  bully  out  of 
here  so  that  he'll  never  come  back,  I'd  like  to 
be  in  it.  And  I  guess  my  services  would  be 
valuable." 

"  Look  here,"  demanded  Blaney,  sharply. 
"  What  have  you  got  against  Weeks  ?  " 

"  What  have  I  got  against  him  ? "  repeated 
Bridge.  His  face  was  flushed  and  his  shining 
eyes  and  clenched  hands  testified  to  his  excite- 
ment. "  Hasn't  he  made  me  pull  his  hot  chest- 
nuts off  the  fire  for  the  last  two  years  ?  Hasn't 


A  Politician  147 

he  held  me  up  and  made  me  pay  a  good  rake- 
off  from  every  deal  I've  been  lucky  enough  to 
make  a  little  on  ?  And  hasn't  he  loaned  me 
money  until  I  don't  dare  sign  my  own  name 
without  asking  him  if  I  can  do  it,  and  —  "  He 
stopped  as  though  knowing  he  had  gone  too 
far ;  then  he  laughed  nervously.  "  It's  all 
right  what  I've  got  against  him;  that's  my 
business,  I  guess,  but  —  " 

Again  the  unfinished  sentence  was  eloquent. 

This  time  it  was  Blaney  who  broke  •  the 
silence.  "  I  guess,"  he  said  cautiously,  "  that  if 
you  want  to  tip  Weeks  over,  you'll  find  there'll 
be  some  to  help  you." 

Bridge  laughed  bitterly.  "  There  are  plenty 
who'd  be  glad  enough  to  do  it  if  they  could. 
He's  had  his  grip  on  all  of  us  long  enough  for 
that ;  but  I'm  afraid  it's  no  good.  We  can't 
beat  him.  He's  got  us  in  a  vise." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Blaney. 

"Why,  man,"  exclaimed  the  other,  "what 
can  we  do  ?  And  if  we  try  to  buck  him  and  get 
left,  he'll  squeeze  the  life  out  of  us.  You  know 
that" 

Blaney  did  know  that,  and  Bridge's  words 
brought  certain  unpleasant  consequences  plainly 


148  The  Short  Line  War 

before  his  mind.  All  the  while  Bridge  was 
talking  Blaney  had  been  trying  to  find  out  what 
his  motive  was.  He  had  always  believed  that 
Bridge  was  hand  and  glove  with  Weeks,  and  at 
the  beginning  he  had  suspected  a  trap.  But 
what  Bridge  had  said  was  entirely  plausible ; 
he  had  given  himself  away  without  reserve,  and 
had  frankly  confessed  that  Weeks  had  been 
driving  him.  Bridge  would  be  a  valuable  ally 
in  the  scheme  Blaney  wanted  to  put  through. 
Jim  was  popular  in  Tillman,  and  if  he  were  to  be 
sold  out  to  a  corporation  like  C.  &  S.  C.,  it  would, 
as  Bridge  had  hinted,  be  well  for  all  parties 
concerned  in  the  transfer  that  it  should  be 
accomplished  as  quietly  as  possible.  Bridge 
was  at  the  head  of  a  compact  and  determined 
minority,  and  if  he  opposed  the  deal,  he  could 
make  matters  very  uncomfortable  for  Blaney  and 
his  henchmen.  But  with  Bridge  on  his  side  the 
field  was  clear  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  as 
to  the  success  of  the  scheme.  The  one  thing 
that  troubled  Blaney  was  that  Bridge  might  de- 
mand money ;  but  there  was  no  need  of  facing 
that  issue  yet,  for  Bridge  had  apparently  not 
thought  of  it  "He's  just  getting  even  for 
something,"  thought  Blaney. 


A  Politician  149 

There  was  a  long  silence,  which  Blaney  broke 
at  last. 

"  We  don't  have  to  buck  him  all  by  ourselves/' 
he  said.  "We're  well  backed.  C.  &  S.  C.  are 
behind  us.  Are  you  with  us  ?  " 

Bridge  answered  him  steadily.  "  I've  been 
waiting  for  a  chance  like  this  for  a  year,"  he 
said.  "You  can  count  me  in  for  all  I'm  worth." 

He  rose  to  go  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
Blaney.  "Good  night,"  he  said,  "and  good 
luck  to  us." 

"  So  long,"  was  the  answer.  "  I'll  come 
around  in  a  day  or  two,  and  we  can  arrange 
details." 

The  interview  had  been  a  hard  one  for  Bridge, 
and  it  left  him  weak  and  nervous.  When  he 
sat  down  to  supper  at  his  boarding-house  table 
that  evening  he  had  no  appetite.  He  went  to 
bed  early,  but  he  did  not  sleep  well,  and  the  next 
morning  found  him  exhausted  by  the  intermi- 
nable hours  of  dozing,  uneasy  half-consciousness. 
He  spent  the  next  day  in  hoping  that  Blaney 
would  come,  though  he  had  no  reason  for  ex- 
pecting him  so  soon,  and  by  night  he  was  in 
worse  condition  than  ever.  He  would  have 
gone  again  to  see  Blaney  had  he  dared,  but  he 


i  $0  The  Short  Line  War 

felt  that  such  a  proceeding  would  imperil  the 
whole  affair ;  he  must  wait  for  Blaney  to  make 
the  next  move. 

Day  followed  day  with  no  variation  save  that 
Bridge  found  the  delay  more  and  more  nearly  un- 
bearable, and  the  week  had  dragged  to  an  end 
and  another  begun  before  anything  happened. 
On  Sunday  afternoon  he  started  out  for  a  walk, 
but  he  had  not  gone  far  when  he  met  Blaney. 
To  his  surprise,  the  contractor  looked  as  though 
the  past  week  had  been  as  hard  for  him  as  it 
had  been  for  Bridge.  His  face  looked  thin  and 
his  eyes  sunken  and  there  were  bristling  uneven 
patches  of  sandy  beard  on  his  face.  When  he 
came  up  to  Bridge  he  stopped. 

"  I  suppose  youVe  been  looking  for  me,"  he 
said.  "  I've  been  staying  right  at  home  taking 
care  of  my  kid ;  she's  had  the  scarlet  fever/' 

"  Louise  ? "  asked  Bridge,  with  real  concern. 
"  I  hope  she's  better." 

"  I  guess  she'll  pull  through  all  right  now," 
answered  Blaney,  "but  she's  been  pretty  sick, 
and  it's  kept  me  busy  night  and  day.  You  see 
my  wife  can't  do  much  at  nursing.  But  I  tell 
you  scarlet  fever  is  no  joke." 

"I  never  had  it,"  was  the  answer,  "but  I'm 


A  Politician  151 

glad  it's  come  out  all  right.  By  the  way/1  he 
went  on,  as  Blaney  started  to  walk  away,  "  when 
will  you  be  able  to  talk  over  that  business  with 
me?" 

"Why,  now  as  well  as  at  any  time,  I  suppose/' 
said  Blaney,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

The  contractor  had  an  office  near  by,  and  at  his 
suggestion  they  went  there  for  their  conference. 

"  How  many  men  can  you  count  ? "  he  asked 
when  they  were  seated. 

Now  that  the  period  of  forced  inaction  was 
over,  and  there  was  something  important  to  do, 
Bridge  forgot  that  his  head  was  burning  and 
his  throat  dry,  and  for  the  first  time  in  three 
days  he  was  able  to  think  consecutively.  For 
half  an  hour  they  figured  their  united  strength 
and  talked  over  the  individual  members  of  the 
Council.  But  at  last  Bridge  said :  — 

"  Before  we  go  any  further,  I  want  to  know 
more  about  this  business.  I've  taken  your 
word  so  far  that  we  would  be  backed  up  all 
right,  and  I  hope  we  are.  But  I  can't  afford  to 
be  beaten,  and  if  Weeks  isn't  clean  busted  up, 
he'll  hound  me  to  death.  I've  got  to  know 
more  about  this  business." 

Blaney  looked  out  of  the  window.     "  Seems 


152  The  Short  Line  War 

to  me  you're  pretty  late  with  that  talk  about  not 
going  in,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  I've  committed  myself  to  some  ex- 
tent without  knowing  just  what  I  was  getting 
into,"  answered  Bridge,  "but  I  won't  go  any 
farther  till  some  things  are  cleared  up." 

"What  do  you  want  to  know?"  asked 
Blaney. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you're  going  to  do. 
Voting  that  stock  against  Weeks  won't  do 
any  good.  We  can't  get  him  out  all  by  our- 
selves." 

"  We  aren't  all  by  ourselves.  C.  &  S.  C.  are 
with  us." 

"  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  get  at.  To  what 
extent  are  they  with  us  ? " 

Blaney  hesitated.  It  had  not  been  a  part  of 
his  plan  to  tell  of  the  prospective  sale  of  the 
stock.  He  had  meant  to  have  the  Council  direct 
the  voting  of  the  stock  for  C.  &  S.  C.  faction, 
and  then  when  they  had  committed  themselves 
by  this  act,  to  urge  upon  them  the  necessity  of 
selling  out  and  to  tempt  them  with  the  offer  of 
par.  But  a  glance  at  Bridge's  set  face  con- 
vinced him  that  the  new  ally  meant  what  he 
said,  and  he  knew  too  much  already  for  the 


A  Politician  153 

safety  of  the  scheme  unless  he  were  further- 
ing it. 

"They're  with  us  to  this  extent,"  said  Blaney, 
slowly.  "  They're  going  to  buy  our  stock." 

"That's  all  rot,"  said  Bridge.  "We  can't 
sell.  M.  &  T.'s  a  good  investment  now,  and 
it's  getting  better  every  day." 

"  Wait  till  I  get  through,"  interrupted  Blaney, 
bent  now  on  making  an  impression.  "  Don't 
you  think  the  Council  would  vote  to  sell  at  par  ? " 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"  C.  &  S.  C.  are  going  to  pay  par,  that's  all." 

Bridge  looked  at  him  incredulously.  "  Then 
we're  to  vote  the  stock  as  they  dictate,  just  on 
the  strength  of  their  telling  us  they'll  pay  par 
for  it  afterward.  I'm  afraid  it'll  be  a  long  time 
afterward.  How  do  you  know  they  aren't  play- 
ing us  for  suckers  ? " 

"  How  do  we  know  ? "  repeated  Blaney. 
"  I'm  not  quite  as  green  as  you  think.  I  know 
because  I've  got  it  down  in  black  and  white. 
They  can't  get  around  a  contract  like  that." 

Unlocking  a  drawer  in  his  desk,  he  drew  out 
a  sheet  of  paper  which  he  thrust  into  Bridge's 
hands.  "  Read  it,"  he  said. 

Bridge  read  it  through  once  and  then  again ; 


i$4  The  Short  Line  War 

it  was  briefly  worded,  and  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
remembering  it.  As  he  laid  the  paper  down  he 
was  conscious  of  a  violent  throbbing  in  his  head, 
and  he  shivered  as  though  an  icy  breeze  had 
blown  upon  him.  He  rose  uncertainly  from  his 
chair  and  moved  toward  the  door. 

"What's  the  matter?"  demanded  Blaney. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ? " 

"I  don't  feel  very  well,"  said  Bridge.  "I 
think  I'll  go  home  and  go  to  bed." 

When  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  how- 
ever, he  turned  not  toward  his  room,  but  toward 
the  railway  station ;  for  in  his  mind  there  was  a 
confused  purpose  of  going  to  Chicago  immedi- 
ately and  telling  Jim  Weeks  exactly  what  he 
had  found  out. 

Scarlet  fever  is  not  ordinarily  a  man's  disease, 
but  it  had  fallen  upon  Bridge.  He  had  exposed 
himself  to  it  on  the  evening  when  he  went  to 
Blaney's  house  to  make  the  preliminary  move  in 
his  game ;  and  now  after  the  five  days  of  tense 
inaction  it  attacked  him  furiously. 

He  was  in  a  raging  fever  when  he  left  Blaney's 
office,  but  he  did  not  realize  it,  borne  up  as  he 
was  by  the  excitement  of  winning.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  that  he  had  done  as  good  a  stroke 


A  Politician  155 

of  work  for  himself  as  for  Jim  Weeks,  for  Jim 
was  not  the  man  to  let  the  merit  of  his  lieuten- 
ants go  unrecognized.  He  felt  sure  that  Jim 
would  win  the  fight,  even  with  C.  &  S.  C.  against 
him,  and  though  he  had  not  recognized  the  worth- 
lessness  of  the  contract  Blaney  held,  he  was  con- 
fident that  Jim  could  use  his  knowledge  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  contract  with  telling  effect. 

As  he  walked  on,  the  exhilaration  of  his  tri- 
umph died  out  of  him,  and  his  steps  faltered 
and  his  sight  became  untrustworthy.  He  real- 
ized that  he  was  not  fit  for  travelling,  and  reluc- 
tantly he  turned  back  to  his  room.  He  was  a 
long  time  in  reaching  it,  and  when  he  staggered 
in  and  dropped  into  an  easy-chair  he  knew  that 
he  was  a  very  sick  man.  With  a  foreboding 
of  the  delirium  that  was  coming  upon  him  he 
gathered  himself  together  for  a  final  effort  and 
scrawled  a  copy  of  the  contract  upon  a  slip  of 
paper.  With  shaking  hands  he  folded  it  and 
crammed  it  into  an  inner  pocket ;  then  he  rose 
and  moved  slowly  toward  the  bed.  He  fell 
twice  in  the  short  distance,  but  he  kept  on,  and 
his  head  sank  back  in  the  pillows  before  con- 
sciousness forsook  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

KATHERINE 

As  Katherine  drove  home  alone  on  Sunday 
morning  she  was  troubled.  In  aiding  Harvey 
to  catch  the  train  for  Manchester  she  had  acted 
upon  the  veriest  impulse,  and  Katherine  liked 
to  imagine  herself  a  very  cool  and  self-possessed 
young  woman.  Slowly  it  dawned  upon  her  that 
by  helping  Harvey  she  had  set  her  hand  against 
her  own  father.  In  an  impersonal  way  she  had 
realized  this,  but  Harvey's  presence  had  filled 
her  thoughts,  and  she  had  not  allowed  herself 
time  to  consider.  And  now  that  the  cooler  after- 
thoughts had  come  she  was  almost  as  indignant 
with  herself  for  showing  such  open  interest  in 
Harvey  as  for  hurting  her  father's  cause.  Then 
she  grew  startled  to  realize  that  even  in  her 
thoughts  she  was  placing  this  man  before  her 
father.  Harvey  was  not  a  fool.  He  would  see 
that  she  had  been  disloyal,  and  he  would  cease 
156 


Katherine  157 

to  respect  her.  She  wondered  if  she  was 
disloyal. 

On  reaching  home  she  hurried  to  her  room 
and  sat  down  by  the  open  window,  looking  out 
over  the  lawn  that  sloped  down  to  the  road. 
Harvey  would  think  her  weak,  and  would  feel 
that  he  could  sway  her  from  her  strongest  duty. 

The  day  was  bright.  Far  in  the  distance  she 
could  see  a  bend  of  the  river.  There  was  no 
sound,  no  life;  the  rolling  country  stretched 
away  in  idle  waves,  the  checkered  farms  lay 
quiet  in  the  sun,  over  all  was  the  calm  of 
a  country  Sunday.  Her  eyes  wandered  and 
she  closed  them,  resting  her  fingers  on  the 
lids.  Life  was  serious  to  Katherine.  Since  her 
early  teens  she  had  lived  without  a  mother,  and 
the  result  of  her  forced  independence  was  a 
pronounced  and  early  womanhood.  She  had 
learned  her  lessons  from  experience  and  had 
learned  them  with  double  force.  She  had  never 
been  in  love,  and  save  for  a  very  few  youthful 
flutterings  had  never  given  the  idea  a  concrete 
form ;  and  now  that  she  should  manifest  such 
weakness  before  Harvey  partly  alarmed  her. 
She  suspected  that  he  loved  her,  but  would  not 
permit  herself  to  return  it.  She  knew  too  little 


158  The  Short  Line  War 

about  him,  and,  besides,  her  first  duty  was  with 
her  father.  She  had  yielded  to  impulse,  but  it 
was  not  too  late  to  reconsider.  She  had  aided 
the  enemy  by  a  positive  act ;  she  would  do  as 
much  for  her  father.  With  firm  eyes  she  rose 
and  went  downstairs,  fully  decided  to  inves- 
tigate the  matter  until  she  could  discover  a 
means  of  throwing  her  energy  against  Weeks 
and  Harvey. 

During  the  next  two  days  her  determination 
grew.  Mr.  Porter  was  in  Chicago  and  Man- 
chester, and  was  not  expected  home  immedi- 
ately, so  Katherine  had  plenty  of  time  for 
thinking.  She  drove  a  great  deal,  went  around 
the  links  every  morning,  and  tried  to  read.  It 
did  not  occur  to  her  that  her  effort  was  not  so 
much  to  side  with  her  duty  as  to  crowd  down 
the  thoughts  of  Harvey  that  would  steal  into 
her  mind.  She  permitted  herself  no  leeway  in 
the  matter,  but  kept  resolutely  to  her  decision. 

Tuesday  afternoon  she  drove  until  quite  late, 
and  returning  found  her  father  and  McNally 
awaiting  dinner.  Although  she  was  quicker 
than  usual  in  her  efforts  to  entertain  their 
guest,  the  meal  was  hurried  and  uncomfortable. 
When  in  repose  McNally's  face  was  clouded, 


Katherine  1 59 

and  the  occasional  spells  of  interest  into  which 
he  somewhat  studiously  aroused  himself  could 
not  conceal  his  general  inattention.  Her  father, 
too,  was  preoccupied,  and  was  so  abrupt  in  his 
conversation  as  to  leave  small  trace  of  the  easy 
lightness  of  manner  that  Katherine  had  always 
known. 

After  dinner  Katherine  excused  herself,  and 
stepped  out  through  the  long  window  that 
opened  on  the  veranda.  Evidently  a  crisis 
had  come,  and  she  wished  that  an  opportunity 
would  arise  through  which  she  might  join  their 
discussion.  Just  outside  of  the  library  window 
she  sat  down  on  a  steamer  chair  and  gazed  up 
at  the  dark  masses  of  the  trees,  the  thinning 
tops  of  which  were  at  once  darkened  and  relieved 
by  the  last  red  of  the  western  sky. 

"  Yes,  Porter,  they  kicked  me  out.  My 
men  and  I  made  a  stiff  fight  for  it,  but  they 
outnumbered  us." 

At  the  sound  of  McNally's  voice  Katherine 
started  guiltily.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her  that 
the  matter  would  be  discussed  downstairs ; 
usually  her  father's  private  conversations  were 
held  in  his  den  on  the  second  floor.  She  won- 
dered whether  she  ought  to  make  herself  known. 


160  The  Short  Line  War 

Then  she  heard  McNally  again,  answering  a 
low-spoken  question  from  her  father. 

"  He  was  a  good  man,  or  perhaps  you  would 
call  him  a  bad  one.  He  was  just  getting  down 
to  work  on  the  vault  door  when  West  and  his 
gang  of  Pinkertons  broke  in  on  him  and  nailed 
him." 

Another  question  from  Porter. 

"  No,  Porter^  they  are  on  to  us  now.  You 
see,  the  books  are  gone,  and  there's  no  use 
in  trying  to  get  hold  of  that  end  of  the  road ; 
but  we  can  seize  it  from  this  end  and  get  every- 
thing except  their  building." 

With  cheeks  burning  and  with  conscience 
troubling,  Katherine  rose  and  stood  before  the 
window. 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  put  myself  in  your  way," 
she  said,  laughing  nervously,  "but  I  couldn't 
help  hearing." 

Looking  in  through  the  dim  light  Katherine 
thought  she  saw  McNally  start.  After  a  brief 
but  embarrassing  pause  Porter  spoke,  using  the 
tone  Katherine  associated  with  the  stern  but 
kindly  rebukes  of  her  childhood. 

"  Did  you  hear  all  we  said,  Katherine  ? " 

"  Most  of  it,  I'm  afraid." 


Katherine  161 

"You  understand,  dear,  that  this  is  very 
confidential  business  ? " 

"Yes,  dad."  With  an  impulsive  start  Kath- 
erine seated  herself  on  the  low  sill  of  the  window 
and  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap.  "  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  talk  it  over  with  you.  You  know 
I  am  interested  in  your  affairs,  dad.  And/' 
hesitatingly,  "maybe  I  can  help  you." 

For  a  space  all  three  were  silent.  Katherine 
was  leaning  back  in  a  pose  that  brought  out  all 
her  unconscious  beauty.  The  waning  light  fell 
full  upon  her,  and  the  sunset  seemed  to  be 
faintly  reflected  in  her  face.  Her  hair  was 
coiled  above  her  forehead  in  easy  disorder. 

McNally,  sitting  back  in  the  shadow,  looked 
fixedly  at  her,  and  as  he  looked  it  seemed  to 
him  that  her  beauty  spiced  the  atmosphere. 
He  found  himself  drawing  in  his  breath  keenly 
and  almost  audibly,  and  gripping  the  arms  of 
the  easy-chair :  with  a  sudden  half-amused  feel- 
ing of  boyishness  he  relaxed  his  grip  and  leaned 
back  comfortably.  It  was  some  time  since  the 
introspective  Mr.  McNally  had  found  it  neces- 
sary to  reprove  himself  for  such  a  slip  of  de- 
meanor. 

"  I  couldn't  help  seeing  what  was  going  on," 

M 


162  The  Short  Line  War 

continued  Katherine.  "And  you  told  me  the 
other  day  that  I  had  helped  you  some."  She 
turned  appealingly  toward  her  father,  who  sat 
with  head  lowered,  scowling  at  the  carpet. 
McNally  broke  the  pause. 

"There  is  very  little  we  can  tell  you,  Miss 
Katherine.  A  business  matter  of  this  importance 
is  too  complicated  for  any  one  who  has  not 
grown  up  with  the  problems.  It  would  involve 
the  history  of  two  railroads  for  years  back." 

"  Why  is  it,"  asked  Katherine,  earnestly,  "  that 
a  man  never  credits  a  woman  with  common 
sense  ?  I  am  not  blind.  I  know  that  the  M.  &  T. 
is  a  feeder  to  C.  &  S.  C.,  that  it  supplies  us  with 
coal,  and  that  we  could  earn  and  save  money 
by  making  it  a  part  of  our  system.  Mr.  Weeks 
is  fighting  us  for  some  reason,  and  we  are  plan- 
ning to  force  the  question.  Isn't  that  so  ? " 

"  Where  did  you  learn  this,  Katherine  ? "  asked 
her  father. 

"  From  no  one  particular  source.  You  have 
told  me  a  great  deal  yourself,  dad." 

"The  question  is,  Miss  Katherine,"  McNally 
said,  "what  good  could  you  possibly  do?  With- 
out implying  any  doubt  of  your  ability,  you  see 
our  course  is  already  mapped  out  for  us  by  cir- 


Katherine  163 

cumstances.  In  fact,  there  is  only  one  way  open 
that  leads  to  a  logical  outcome.  If  we  were  in 
a  position  where  we  needed  tactful  advice,  you 
could  undoubtedly  be  of  help,  but  just  now  what 
we  want  is  a  force  of  strong,  aggressive  men." 

"  Mr.  McNally  is  right,  dear/'  said  Porter. 
"  Everything  is  decided,  and  all  we  can  do  is 
to  tend  to  business.  This  Weeks  is  following 
rather  a  dishonorable  course,  and  we  are  pre- 
pared to  meet  him ;  that  is  all." 

Katherine  leaned  forward  and  twisted  the 
curtain  string  around  her  finger. 

"  Is  he  really  dishonest  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  dear,  that  is  a  hard  question.  No  man 
has  a  right  to  condemn  another  without  careful 
deliberation  ;  but  it  happens  that  many  business 
dealings  savor  a  little  of  underhand  methods, 
and  it  looks  to  us  as  though  Mr.  Weeks  were 
not  over  particular." 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"Well,  you  see,  dear—" 

Katherine  broke  in  with  unusual  warmth. 
"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Some 
more  complications  that  I  couldn't  understand. 
Why  won't  you  tell  me  ? " 

Porter  arose. 


164  The  Short  Line  War 

"We'll  talk  this  over  at  some  other  time, 
Katherine.  I  have  an  appointment  with  Judge 
Black  for  this  evening,  but  I  will  be  back  before 
long."  He  added  to  McNally,  "  He  came  in 
on  the  8.25.  I'll  leave  you  with  Katherine." 

When  he  had  gone  there  was  a  silence. 
Katherine  felt  that  her  father's  absence  should 
alter  the  tone  of  the  conversation,  but  she 
waited  for  McNally  to  take  the  initiative. 

"  What  a  glorious  night,"  he  said  at  length, 
rising  and  coming  to  the  window.  "Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  lingering  afterglow  ?  Suppose 
we  sit  outside." 

Katherine  rose  and  made  room  for  McNally 
to  step  through  the  open  window.  Together 
they  walked  across  the  veranda,  McNally  seat- 
ing himself  on  the  railing,  Katherine  leaning 
against  one  of  the  stone  columns. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  ambitious  to  be  a 
business  woman,  Miss  Katherine  ?  " 

"I  hardly  wish  that.  Only  I  like  to  share 
father's  interests." 

"Do  you  know,  I  like  it.  I  like  to  see  a 
woman  show  an  independent  interest  in  im- 
portant affairs.  Nowadays  not  only  young 
girls  but  women  of  position  seem  to  care  for 


Katherine  165 

nothing  but  the  frivolous.  I  don't  know  but 
what  our  pioneer  ancestors  got  more  out  of  life, 
when  the  woman  and  her  husband  worked  side 
by  side." 

"Will  you  tell  me  about  the  M.  &  T.  busi- 
ness, Mr.  McNally  ? " 

"I  hardly  feel  that  I  can,  Miss  Katherine. 
To  my  mind  that  rests  with  your  father/1 

"  Probably  it  does,  but  father  still  thinks  me  a 
child.  He  thinks  I  cannot  grasp  the  situation.1' 

"  Even  if  I  felt  at  liberty  to  discuss  it,  I  don't 
know  what  I  could  tell  you  beyond  a  mere  re- 
cital of  dry  detail.  Personally,  I  should  like  to 
do  so,  Miss  Katherine ;  I  honestly  admire  your 
independence,  and  I  believe  that  you  might 
even  be  able  to  suggest  some  helpful  ideas,  but 
business  does  not  concern  itself  with  the  per- 
sonal equation." 

Katherine  looked  thoughtfully  at  McNally's 
shadowed  face.  She  was  a  little  surprised  with 
herself  that  she  should  so  persist,  but  it  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  stop.  Deep  behind  her  desire 
to  be  honest  with  her  father  was  a  desire  to 
prove  that  Harvey  was,  after  all,  in  the  right. 
She  did  not  recognize  this,  she  did  not  even 
know  it,  but  Harvey's  personality  had  taken  on 


166  The  Short  Line  War 

hers  a  vital  grip  that  was  as  yet  too  strong,  too 
firm,  too  close  at  hand  to  be  realized.  As  for 
McNally,  his  intention  to  evade  was  too  evident 
to  be  overlooked.  He  was  dodging  at  every 
turn,  and  it  was  becoming  clear  to  her  that  he 
was  concealing  facts  which  it  would  not  do  to 
disclose.  And  this  suggested  that  her  father 
was  doing  the  same.  The  bit  of  conversation 
she  had  overheard  came  back  to  her,  and  as 
she  thought  it  over  it  sounded  odder  than  when 
she  had  first  heard  it.  Why  should  her  father 
wish  to  seize  the  road?  If  it  belonged  to  Mr. 
Weeks,  and  if  he  did  not  care  to  sell,  what  right 
had  her  father  or  any  one  else  to  take  it  by 
force?  She  had  been  looking  out  over  the 
lawn,  but  now  she  turned  and  fixed  her  eyes 
intently  on  McNally's  plump,  smooth-shaven 
face.  He  was  looking  toward  her,  but  seemed 
not  to  see  her.  Instead  there  was  the  shadow 
of  a  smile  in  his  eyes  which  suggested  air- 
castles. 

"Mr.  McNally,"  she  said  abruptly,  "if  we 
want  the  M.  &  T.  road,  why  don't  we  buy  it  and 
pay  for  it?" 

McNally  started.  During  the  long  silence  he 
had  been  feasting  on  Katherine's  beauty.  He 


Katherine  167 

was  not  a  young  man,  but  as  he  gazed  at  the 
earnest  young  face  before  him,  and  at  the  masses 
of  shining  hair,  half  in  shadow,  half  in  light,  he 
felt  a  sudden  loneliness,  a  sudden  realization  of 
what  such  a  woman  could  be  to  him,  what  an 
influence  she  might  have  upon  his  life.  And 
losing  for  the  moment  the  self-poise  that  was 
his  proudest  accomplishment,  Mr.  McNally 
stammered. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "we  couldn't  — it  wouldn't 
do  —  " 

From  the  change  in  every  line  of  Katherine's 
pose  he  knew  that  he  had  said  enough.  She 
had  turned  half  away  from  him  and  was  stand- 
ing rigid,  looking  out  into  the  night.  Glancing 
at  her  dimly  outlined  profile,  McNally  could  see 
that  her  lips  were  pressed  closely  together.  He 
pulled  himself  together  and  stood  up. 

"  Why  not  go  in  and  have  some  music  ? "  he 
asked.  "This  conversation  is  too  serious  for 
such  an  evening." 

Katherine  bowed  and  led  the  way  into  the 
house.  As  they  passed  through  the  library 
toward  the  piano  she  paused  to  turn  the  electric- 
light  key.  With  the  flood  of  light  Katherine's 
ease  returned,  and  she  laughed  lightly  as  she 


168  The  Short  Line   War 

pointed  to  a  gaudily  decorated  sheet  of  music 
on  the  piano. 

"  Shocking,  isn't  it  ? "  she  said.  "  That's  the 
kind  of  music  we  play  down  here  in  the 
country.  We  need  your  influence  to  keep  us 
from  degenerating  musically.  Play  me  some- 
thing good." 

McNally  glanced  at  her  with  a  laugh. 

"  Coon  songs,  eh  ?  "  he  replied.  "  Well,  some 
of  them  aren't  so  bad."  He  sat  down  at  the 
instrument  and  let  his  hands  slip  over  the  keys. 
Katherine  sank  upon  the  broad  couch  in  the 
corner.  She  was  apparently  her  old  self, 
friendly  and  interested  in  Mr.  McNally  and  his 
music,  but  there  was  nevertheless  a  distinct 
change.  McNally  felt  the  difference  and  tried 
to  throw  it  off,  but  the  force  of  the  situation 
grew  upon  him.  Slowly  he  realized  that  in 
spite  of  her  pretensions  she  was  not  really  in 
sympathy  either  with  him  or  with  her  father. 
He  struck  into  a  Liszt  rhapsody  with  all  the 
fervor  he  could  muster. 

McNally  was  a  good  musician.  He  possessed 
the  power,  lacking  in  many  better  pianists,  of 
using  music  as  a  medium  to  connect  his  own 
and  his  listener's  moods ;  but  to-night  he  fell 


Katherine  169 

short,  and  he  knew  it.  He  stole  a  glance  at 
Katherine.  She  looked  exactly  as  usual,  but 
still  there  was  a  difference  that  baffled  him. 
He  threw  all  his  art  into  the  music.  He 
labored  to  color  it  with  sincerity  and  strength. 
But  all  the  while  he  knew  that  the  ground  was 
lost.  What  he  did  not  know  was  that  Kather- 
ine was  passing  through  a  crisis,  and  that  her 
thoughts  were  miles  away  from  him  and  his 
rhapsody.  He  ended  with  unusual  brilliancy, 
and  she  smiled  with  pleasure  and  thanked  him 
simply,  but  still  he  felt  the  change.  Then  Por- 
ter came  in,  and  after  a  brief  general  conver- 
sation Katherine  withdrew. 

She  did  not  go  at  once  to  her  room.  Instead, 
she  slipped  out  on  the  little  second-floor  bal- 
cony and  sat  down  to  be  alone  and  to  think. 
She  had  made  an  honest  effort  to  throw  her 
interest  with  her  father  and  with  what  she 
believed  to  be  her  duty,  and  now  that  the  even- 
ing was  gone  she  had  nothing  to  show  for  it. 
For  a  very  few  moments  she  wondered  at  it 
all,  and  at  the  fate  which  seemed  to  draw  her 
toward  Harvey.  Then,  as  the  thought  of  him 
again  took  concrete  form,  and  as  the  last  two 
days  with  him  came  back  to  her  mind,  her 


170  The  Short  Line   War 

whole  heart  went  out  to  him,  and  she  was 
startled,  frightened  at  the  strength  of  his  hold 
upon  her.  For  a  moment  she  gave  herself  up 
to  dreams,  dreams  of  a  better,  sweeter  existence 
than  any  she  had  dared  to  imagine,  then  came 
the  thought  of  her  father,  and  Katherine  broke 
down. 

Downstairs,  McNally  and  Porter  sat  for  a 
long  time  with  only  a  desultory  conversation. 
Then  McNally  said, — 

"  Porter,  I  envy  you  a  daughter  like  that." 
"  She  is  a  good  girl/'  Porter  replied. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TRAIN   NO.    14 

THE  fight  for  the  possession  of  the  Man- 
chester and  Truesdale  Railroad  divides  itself 
naturally  into  two  acts.  During  the  first  week, 
while  it  would  be  absurd  to  say  that  the  acts 
of  either  side  were  legal,  all  the  proceedings 
had  worn  the  cloak  of  law.  But  now  matters 
had  come  to  a  deadlock.  Judge  Grey  was  both 
able  and  willing  to  undo  any  or  all  of  the 
acts  of  Judge  Black,  and  conversely.  The  last 
event  of  the  first  act  was  the  attempt  on  Tues- 
day morning  of  the  C.  &  S.  C.  people,  armed 
with  writs  from  Black,  to  seize  the  books  of  the 
company.  They  were  courteously  received  and 
the  vaults  were  thrown  open  to  their  inspection ; 
but  as  the  books  had  been  spirited  away  the 
night  before,  the  search  was  fruitless.  Porter 
and  McNally  had  been  beaten  at  their  own 
game,  and  they  withdrew  their  forces  to  Trues- 
171 


172  The  Short  Line   War 

dale.  The  fight  was  to  be  kept  up  on  other 
lines. 

Wednesday  morning,  No.  7  on  the  C.  &  S.  C. 
brought  down  a  much  larger  number  of  pas- 
sengers for  Truesdale  than  ordinarily  came 
on  that  train.  They  climbed  down  to  the 
station  platform  from  different  cars,  and  re- 
garded each  other  with  studied  indifference, 
but  there  was  something  homogeneous  about 
the  crowd  that  drew  upon  it  the  frankest  stares 
of  the  station  loafers.  There  were  no  women 
or  children  among  them,  they  carried  no  bag- 
gage, and  there  was  an  air  about  them,  care- 
fully repressed  but  still  discernible,  which 
suggested  that  if  any  one  were  looking  for 
trouble  they  were  the  men  to  whom  to  apply. 
They  seemed  to  be  trying  to  attract  as  little 
attention  as  possible,  but  they  were  followed 
by  many  curious  glances,  as  they  straggled  in 
a  long  irregular  line  up  the  street  toward  the 
Truesdale  Hotel. 

Katherine  had  driven  into  town  that  morning, 
and  from  her  high  trap  she  watched  the  spec- 
tacle with  amused  interest.  Seeing  McNally 
coming  out  of  the  hotel  office  she  pulled  up  her 
horses  and  nodded  to  him  with  a  peremptory 


Train  No.  14  173 

cordiality  which  left  him  no  escape  from  com- 
ing to  speak  to  her. 

"  So  war  is  declared/1  she  said  laughingly, 
nodding  toward  the  rear  guard  who  were  dis- 
appearing in  the  hotel  entrance.  "I  see  you 
are  massing  your  troops.  Is  that  the  entire 
army,  or  only  a  division  ? " 

McNally  tried  to  utter  a  protest,  but  she 
went  on  unheeding.  "  I  think  they're  too 
absurdly  comical  for  words.  They  try  so  hard 
to  look  as  if  they  weren't  spoiling  for  a  fight." 

"  Miss  Porter,"  said  McNally,  seriously, 
"your  father's  interests  are  at  stake  now  and 
we  must  be  discreet." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said ;  "  but  really  those 
men  are  irresistibly  funny." 

She  gathered  up  the  reins  and  the  horses 
started,  but  as  they  moved  away  she  turned 
and  called  back  to  him, — 

"  Be  sure  and  come  out  to  luncheon  —  that 
is,  if  you  don't  go  to  the  front." 

The  words  troubled  McNally.  Only  two 
days  before  he  had  been  dragged  out  of  his 
hiding-place  in  the  Manchester  station  and 
kicked  downstairs.  This  experience  still  oc- 
cupied a  large  place  in  his  thoughts,  and  he 


1/4  The  Short  Line  War 

took  Katherine's  remark  as  a  reflection  on  his 
personal  courage.  Though  he  had  no  idea 
of  "  going  to  the  front,"  he  decided  not  to  go 
to  the  Porters'  for  luncheon. 

All  that  morning  new  people  kept  streaming 
into  Truesdale.  No.  22  brought  in  McDowell, 
a  division  superintendent  on  the  C.  &  S.  C., 
and  other  less  important  employees  of  the 
same  road  came  in  on  every  train.  All  over 
the  city  was  the  exciting  premonition  that 
something  was  going  to  happen.  The  army, 
as  Katherine  had  called  it,  was  reenforced  by 
two  fresh  detachments  brought  in  on  the  C.  & 
S.  C.  from  no  one  knew  just  where,  but  they 
were  carefully  guarded  from  being  too  much 
in  evidence,  and  there  was  not  the  least  dis- 
order. When  noon  came  and  nothing  had 
happened  the  tension  relaxed  a  little,  and  the 
town  returned  to  its  accustomed  quiet. 

At  the  M.  &  T.  station,  however,  the  excite- 
ment increased,  manifesting  itself  in  many  ways. 
The  trains  came  in  and  went  out  on  their  sched- 
uled time,  and  the  routine  work  went  on  without 
variation,  but  there  was  a  nervous  alertness  evi- 
dent everywhere.  Train  crews  stood  in  little 
knots  about  the  platform  and  yards,  speculating 


Train  No.  14  175 

about  the  fight  whose  issue  meant  much  to  each 
of  them,  but  in  which  they  had  not  as  yet  been 
able  to  take  a  part.  At  one  forty-five  No.  14, 
which  leaves  Truesdale  at  two  o'clock  for  Till- 
man  City,  St.  Johns,  and  Manchester,  backed 
down  to  the  station  to  take  on  its  passengers. 
Carse,  the  conductor,  stood  near  the  cab  talking 
to  the  engineer  and  the  fireman,  keeping  all  the 
while  an  eye  on  the  passengers. 

"We're  getting  a  big  crowd  to-day,"  he  ob- 
served. "  That's  McDowell  of  the  C.  &  S.  C. 
getting  in  the  rear  coach  there.  He's  a  mean 
brute.  Ain't  you  glad  we  ain't  under  him, 
Downs  ? " 

The  engineer  nodded  emphatically,  and  climb- 
ing down  from  the  cab,  stood  beside  the  con- 
ductor. "Seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "there  are 
a  lot  of  C.  &  S.  C.  boys  taking  this  train. 
I've  spotted  three  or  four  already." 

"  Say,"  exclaimed  Carse,  "  do  you  suppose 
they're  going  back  to  Manchester  to  have  an- 
other shot  at  the  old  man  ?  I  brought  them 
back  from  there  yesterday  on  No.  5,  and  they 
were  the  sickest  crowd  you  ever  saw.  The  old 
man  can  give  them  just  about  all  they  want." 

He  paused  and  glanced  at  his  watch.     "  We 


176  The  Short  Line   War 

pull  out  in  thirty  seconds,"  he  said.  And  at 
two  o'clock  No.  14  started  northward  on  what 
was  to  prove  a  most  eventful  run  in  the  history 
of  the  M.  &  T.  The  train  rattled  over  the  yard 
switches,  slid  creaking  under  the  brakes  down 
to  the  river,  rumbled  across  the  bridge,  and  then 
toiled  up  the  first  of  the  long  grades  between 
Truesdale  and  Sawyerville. 

Carse  was  collecting  tickets  in  the  second  car 
when  suddenly  it  thrilled  and  trembled,  and  the 
train,  with  grinding  squealing  brakes,  came  to 
a  stop.  The  conductor  was  all  but  thrown  from 
his  feet,  but  he  staggered  to  the  platform,  and 
leaping  down  ran  toward  the  engine,  followed 
by  an  excited  crowd  of  passengers. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded  of 
Downs,  whom  he  found  clambering  out  of  the 
cab. 

"That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  answered  the 
engineer.  "  Didn't  you  pull  the  signal  cord  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Carse,  looking  puzzled.  "  I  won- 
der what's  up." 

At  that  moment  a  man  came  forward  from 
the  group  of  passengers  :  it  was  McDowell.  "I 
signalled  you  to  stop,"  he  said. 

Carse  waited  an  instant  for  him  to  go  on, 


Train  No.  24 

and  then  asked  impatiently,  "Well,  what's 
wrong  ? " 

"Nothing  that  I  know  of,"  said  McDowell, 
easily.  "I  wanted  the  train  to  stop." 

Carse  stepped  toward  him  angrily.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  you're  drunk  or  not,"  he  said, 
"but  that's  a  damned  poor  kind  of  a  joke. 
You'll  find  that  out  as  soon  as  we  get  to 
Sawyerville." 

"Oh,  no,  I  won't,"  said  McDowell.  "I'm 
superintendent  of  this  road,  and  the  first  thing 
I'm  going  to  do  is  to  fire  you.  Haven,"  —  he 
called  to  one  of  the  group  behind  him,  —  "  you 
can  take  this  train  to  Manchester." 

Another  man  pushed  into  the  circle.  *He 
was  Stewart,  the  sheriff  of  Evelyn  County. 
"  Mr.  McDowell  is  quite  right.  Mr.  Frederick 
McNally,  the  receiver  of  the  road,  appointed 
him  this  morning.  And  I  now  serve  on  you  a 
writ  from  Judge  Black — " 

"See  here,"  interrupted  Carse,  "are  you 
sheriff  of  Evelyn  County  or  of  the  whole 
United  States  ?  You'd  better  keep  out  of  this ; 
the  county  line's  about  half  a  mile  back." 

"We're  wasting  time,"  said  McDowell, 
shortly.  "James  and  Mangan,  take  the  en- 

N 


178  The  Short  Line  War 

gine.  We'll  take  charge  of  this  train,  sir, 
county  or  no  county." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Carse,  under  his 
breath.  Then  shouting,  "Get  away,  boys; 
don't  mind  me,"  he  sprang  upon  McDowell, 
hitting  out  swift  and  hard,  and  in  a  second  the 
two  men  were  clinched  and  rolling  in  the  sand. 
Downs  took  the  hint  and,  leaping  into  the  cab, 
let  off  the  air  brake  and  seized  the  throttle, 
while  Berg,  his  big  fireman,  wrenched  free  from 
the  two  men  who  tried  to  hold  him  and  rushed 
toward  the  cab.  For  a  moment  it  looked  as 
though  No.  14  was  going  to  get  away. 

But  the  first  detachment  of  Mr.  McNally's 
army  was  not  at  hand  for  nothing.  Berg  was 
pulled  down  from  the  step  he  had  succeeded 
in  reaching,  and  a  blow  from  behind  stretched 
him  unconscious  beside  the  track.  Downs 
caught  up  the  shovel  which  lay  at  his  feet, 
and  brought  it  down  hard  on  a  man  who  was 
climbing  over  the  tender ;  then  without  turning 
he  drove  the  handle  squarely  into  the  face  of 
another  who  was  standing  on  the  step  and 
trying  to  clutch  his  legs.  But  the  odds  were 
too  great,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  rushed  back 
against  the  fire-box,  and  his  arms  were  pinioned 


Train  No.  14  1/9 

fast.  McDowell  had  been  freed  from  his  assail- 
ant by  two  of  his  brawny  supporters,  and  he 
rose  to  his  feet  with  some  difficulty ;  the  blood 
was  streaming  down  his  face,  but  he  was  quite 
cool.  Seeing  that  resistance  was  at  an  end,  he 
called  to  the  men  in  the  engine :  — 

"  Let  up  on  that  man ;  we  don't  want  to  kill 
him.  Bring  him  down  here." 

A  moment  later,  he  said :  "  Put  bracelets  on 
all  three  of  them  and  take  them  into  the  smoker. 
Some  of  you  stay  around  and  see  that  they  don't 
do  any  more  mischief."  Then  turning  to  the 
men  he  had  already  ordered  to  take  charge  of 
the  train,  he  said :  "  All  right,  boys,  let  her  go. 
We're  nearly  ten  minutes  late." 

McNally's  plans  were  well  laid ;  so  well  laid 
that  McDowell's  mistake  in  not  stopping  the 
train  soon  enough  did  not  prevent  their  being 
carried  out  successfully.  The  sheriff  of  Maiden 
County  had  been  told  what  was  expected  of  him, 
and  he  was  waiting  on  the  platform  of  the 
Sawyerville  station  when  No.  14  pulled  in. 
There  had  been  no  warning,  there  was  no 
possibility  of  resistance,  and  everything  moved 
as  smoothly  as  clockwork.  The  writs  were 
served,  the  telegraph  office  seized,  and  the 


i8o  The  Short  Line   War 

M.  &  T.  employees  about  the  station  replaced 
by  McDowell's  "  boys  "  almost  before  the  dazed 
.  incumbents  knew  what  was  happening.  The 
new  telegraph  operator  wired  to  McNally,  who 
had  already  taken  possession  of  the  Truesdale 
terminal,  telling  him  briefly  of  the  fight  for  the 
train  and  the  capture  of  Sawyerville.  McNally 
sent  back  brief  instructions  for  the  conduct  of 
the  rest  of  the  raid.  They  were  told  to  make 
no  attempt  to  keep  schedule  time,  but  to  go 
slowly  and  cautiously,  and  to  use  as  little  vio- 
lence as  possible.  Altogether  McDowell  had 
reason  to  feel  well  satisfied  when  he  came  out 
on  the  station  platform  ready  to  take  his  train 
on  its  unique  journey  up  the  road. 

There  stood  near  him  a  number  of  passengers 
gathered  in  an  excited  group,  discussing  the 
fight,  the  delay  of  the  train,  and  the  somewhat 
remote  chance  of  getting  to  Manchester.  One 
of  them,  a  very  stout  man  with  deep-set,  watery 
eyes  and  a  florid  complexion,  recognized  the 
Superintendent  and  turned  to  him. 

"Are  we  likely  to  have  to  wait  as  long  as 
this  at  every  station  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  guess  so,"  answered  McDowell,  shortly. 

"This  is  an   outrage,"  exclaimed  the  other, 


Train  No.  14  181 

angrily.  "  I  took  this  train  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  to  Manchester." 

"You'd  better  get  aboard  then,"  said  Mc- 
Dowell. "We're  going  to  start  now." 

His  coolness  exasperated  the  stout  man,  and 
he  shouted  after  the  Superintendent,  "  I  won't 
submit  to  this.  I  tell  you,  you'll  be  sorry  for  it 
before  I  get  through  with  you." 

McDowell  paid  no  heed  to  the  threat,  and 
nodded  Haven  to  go  ahead;  but  a  young  tele- 
graph operator,  whose  services-  were  to  be  re- 
quired further  up  the  road,  heard  the  words  and 
shouted  to  the  angry  man  :  — 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  take  the  train,  there's 
probably  a  livery  stable  here,  or  else  you  can 
go  to  the  hotel.  It's  a  gold  cure,  but  I  guess 
they'd  take  you  in." 

McDowell  laughed  and  went  into  the  car. 
He  did  not  hear  what  his  former  passenger 
answered,  and  he  did  not  care.  He  would 
probably  have  been  less  amused  if  he  had 
known  that  the  man  was  none  other  than  State 
Senator  "Sporty"  Jones.  It  does  not  pay  to 
enrage  any  man  wantonly,  and  especially  not  a 
man  who  makes  it  his  main  principle  in  life  to 
get  even.  And  as  any  of  his  circumspect  asso- 


1 82  The  Short  Line  War 

elates  could  inform  you,  Senator  Sporty  Jones 
was  just  such  a  man. 

It  was  nearing  six  o'clock  when  No.  14 
slowed  down  in  the  southern  outskirts  of  Till- 
man  City.  The  army,  though  depleted,  was 
jubilant,  and  more  than  made  up  in  esprit  du 
corps  what  it  had  lost  in  numbers.  The  raid 
had  so  far  been  completely  successful :  all  the 
stations  had  been  seized,  and  the  south-bound 
trains  they  had  met  had  been  held  up  and 
placed  in  charge  of  C.  &  S.  C.  employees. 
There  had  been  no  resistance  worth  mention- 
ing, and  they  had  prevented  any  warning  of 
their  coming  from  going  up  the  line  ahead  of 
them.  Tillman  City  was  lying  an  unsuspect- 
ing prey,  though  fairly  in  their  clutches. 

Bill  Stevens,  the  agent  at  Tillman,  knew  that 
something  had  gone  wrong,  for  No.  14  was 
later  than  usual,  and  had  not  been  reported 
from  the  last  two  stations ;  so  when  the  droop- 
ing semaphore  told  him  that  she  was  in  the 
block,  he  went  out  on  the  platform  to  find  out 
what  had  happened.  As  the  train  came  pant- 
ing up  to  the  station  he  saw  two  strange  men 
in  the  cab  instead  of  Downs  and  Berg,  and  this 
puzzled  him  more  than  ever. 


Train  No.  14  183 

The  sheriff  was  the  first  man  off  the  train; 
he  walked  straight  up  to  the  agent,  and  in  two 
minutes  the  formalities  were  over.  Stevens  and 
his  subordinates  were  discharged,  and  the  ticket 
office  and  baggage  room  put  in  charge  of  the 
new  employees  with  a  celerity  born  of  practice. 
A  number  of  deputies  under  McDowell's  orders 
scattered  out  to  take  possession  of  the  round- 
house, the  freight  depot,  and  the  yards. 

Still  standing  on  the  platform  in  an  excited 
crowd  of  raiders,  former  employees,  and  station 
loafers,  was  the  agent.  He  was  thinking  fast, 
for  he  saw  the  importance  of  getting  word  to 
Manchester  of  what  was  happening  along  the 
line.  The  telegraph  line  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  but  a  locomotive  —  It  was  worth  a 
trial,  anyway.  There  were  three  at  Tillman : 
33  that  had  just  brought  in  No.  14,  7  on  a  sid- 
ing waiting  to  take  the  train  to  Manchester,  and 
10,  the  regular  yard  engine.  The  two  passenger 
engines  were  out  of  the  question,  for  they  were 
already  well  guarded,  but  the  little  switching 
locomotive  lay  at  the  northern  end  of  the  yard, 
and  had  not  as  yet  been  seized  by  the  deputies. 
In  the  confusion,  and  aided  by  the  gathering 
dusk  of  the  early  October  evening,  something 
might  be  done. 


1 84  The  Short  Line  War 

Glancing  around,  Stevens  saw  Murphy,  the 
hostler,  standing  at  his  elbow.  Without  turning 
toward  him  he  spoke  softly. 

"  Murphy,"  he  said,  "  slip  out  of  this  crowd 
and  follow  me.  I'm  going  to  try  to  get  away 
on  10.  I  want  you  to  throw  a  switch  for  me." 

The  hostler  nodded  without  a  word,  and 
threaded  his  way  after  the  agent  to  the  edge 
of  the  platform.  Once  out  of  the  glare  of  the 
station  lights  there  was  less  need  for  caution, 
and  the  two  men  set  out  at  a  rapid  walk  toward 
the  north  end  of  the  yards. 

Suddenly  a  deputy  came  out  from  behind  a 
freight  car  and  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  the 
agent's  arm. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ? "  he  demanded. 

There  was  no  word  of  reply,  but  Murphy's 
fist  shot  out,  landing  dully  on  the  man's  jaw, 
and  without  an  outcry  he  sank  inert  on  the  sand. 

The  agent  darted  forward,  keeping  out  of  the 
heavy  sand  by  bounding  along  the  irregularly 
laid  ties,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  climbing  into 
the  cab  of  the  switch  engine. 

"Thank  God!  there's  steam  and  water,"  he 
thought,  and  throwing  over  the  reversing  lever 
he  grasped  the  throttle  and  came  backing  rapidly 
down  the  siding. 


Train  No.  14  185 

It  was  too  dark  for  the  men  at  the  station  to 
see  perfectly  what  had  happened,  but  they  saw 
enough  to  excite  their  suspicion,  and  No.  33, 
which  had  already  uncoupled  from  the  train,  ran 
up  the  main  track  to  investigate.  James  and 
Mangan  and  a  couple  of  deputies  were  in  the 
cab. 

Murphy  had  already  thrown  the  switch  and 
was  standing  beside  it,  holding  a  coupling  pin 
in  his  hand,  awaiting  developments.  The  two 
locomotives  were  running  right  at  each  other, 
and  unless  somebody  changed  his  mind  very 
promptly  a  collision  was  inevitable;  but  the 
agent  was  in  such  a  frame  of  mind  that  a  smash- 
up  was  rather  to  his  liking  than  otherwise,  and 
he  pulled  the  throttle  a  little  wider  open.  He 
would  waste  no  steam  whistling,  but  grasping 
the  hand  rail  he  swung  out  from  the  cab  and 
waved  his  free  arm. 

"  Look  out !  "  he  yelled,  "  I'm  coming." 

Furthermore  it  was  obvious  to  the  men  in  33 
that  he  meant  to  keep  on  coming,  and  as  none  of 
them  had  any  wish  to  try  conclusions,  even  with 
little  No.  10,  the  big  locomotive  stopped  short 
and  went  backing  down  the  track,  the  deputies 
shouting  to  their  comrades  at  the  station  for 
reinforcements. 


1 86  The  Short  Line  War 

No.  10  slowed  down  as  she  backed  on  to  the 
main  track,  and  as  Murphy  threw  the  switch 
she  stopped  and  then  moved  forward.  Stevens 
waited  for  Murphy,  who  left  the  switch  open  and 
climbed  into  the  cab.  Then  with  a  clear  track 
before  her  No.  10  went  tearing  down  the  long 
grade  as  fast  as  her  dumpy  little  drivers  would 
carry  her. 

Halfway  to  Byron  is  a  milk  shed  with  a  short 
siding,  and  when  they  reached  it  Stevens  shut 
down  and  stopped  with  a  jerk. 

"Get  out,"  he  said  to  Murphy,  "and  throw 
over  that  switch  and  put  out  the  lamp." 

As  they  started  on  again  he  said  dryly, 
"  When  they  strike  that,  it  may  teach  'em  to  go 
slow  for  the  rest  of  the  run." 

It  was  just  six-seventeen  by  the  station  clock 
when  Mason,  the  operator  at  Byron,  heard 
No.  10  coming  in.  He  ran  out  on  the  platform, 
but  Stevens  waved  him  back. 

"Get  in  there,"  he  said  as  he  dropped  from 
the  cab.  "  I  want  you  to  send  a  message  quick." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   CAPTURE   AT   BRUSHINGHAM 

ON  the  same  Wednesday  morning  Jawn  Don 
ohue  was  oiling  the  old  switch  engine  pre- 
paratory to  making  up  a  train  of  coal  cars. 
Since  his  ride  with  the  President,  Jawn  had 
been  even  more  silent  than  before.  His  work 
had  been  done  with  the  same  gruff  indepen- 
dence, and  his  fireman  had  received  the  usual 
quota  of  stern  rebukes ;  in  fact,  Jawn  was  out- 
wardly so  like  his  old  self  that  none  suspected 
him  of  emotion,  but  Jawn  knew  how  thin  was  the 
veneer.  It  is  hard  upon  a  man  to  lose  ground 
in  the  great  struggle.  Conscious  of  his  ability, 
proud  in  his  experience,  Jawn  grew  daily  more 
bitter  at  the  prospect  before  him,  and  more 
hostile  to  his  superiors.  For  a  few  days  after 
the  ride  he  had  hoped  for  some  word ;  he  had 
felt  that  such  an  appeal  as  the  one  he  had  made 
to  Jim  Weeks  should  be  productive  of  some 
notice,  if  not  of  a  definite  result.  But  as  the 
187 


1 88  The  Short  Line  War 

t 

week  wore  away,  and  no  word  came,  his  heart 
sank.  Every  day  he  rattled  the  dumpy  little 
engine  about  the  division  yards,  chewing  the 
stem  of  his  pipe,  and  hardening  his  heart 
against  the  world.  He  spent  Sunday  in  his 
room  at  the  boarding-house,  for  he  had  no 
family.  Monday  and  Tuesday  passed  in  worse 
than  solitude,  and  when  Wednesday  morning 
came,  and  with  it  a  message  from  the  division 
superintendent,  Jawn,  in  spite  of  his  hopes,  was 
taken  by  surprise.  The  message  was  addressed 
to  the  agent,  and  was  very  brief :  — 

Send  J.  Donohue  and  fireman  to  Manchester  at  once. 

Jawn  and  his  fireman  took  16  for  Manchester. 
Beyond  a  brief  word  Jawn  had  said  nothing, 
but  his  heart  was  disturbed.  He  was  sure  that 
it  couldn't  mean  discharge,  for  they  would  not 
call  him  north  for  that  —  a  word  and  a  check 
would  have  settled  it.  It  was  hardly  likely 
that  one  of  the  passenger  engineers  was  to  be 
reduced  in  his  favor;  Jawn  knew  the  inside 
history  of  every  man's  connection  with  the 
road,  and  he  could  see  no  reason  for  a  change. 
No,  as  he  worked  it  over  and  over  in  his  mind 


A  Capture  at  Brushingham  189 

during  the  three-hour  ride,  he  began  to  suspect 
that  there  was  special  work  to  be  done. 

If  Jawn  had  been  present  at  the  brief  scene 
in  Mattison's  office  that  morning,  or  if  there 
had  been  a  friend  at  court  to  tell  him  of  it,  he 
would  have  been  a  happy  man.  For  while 
Jim  Weeks,  aggressive  as  ever,  was  organizing 
his  forces  for  the  defence  of  the  road  (Jim  fore- 
saw what  Porter's  next  move  in  the  natural 
course  of  events  would  be),  Mattison  had 
turned  to  the  division  superintendent,  and 
said :  "  Who  can  you  put  on  the  engine,  if 
we  have  to  come  to  rough  work  ?  The  nerviest 
man  we've  got."  And  before  the  other  could 
reply,  Jim  had  turned  from  a  conversation  with 
Harvey  to  say :  "  Donohue's  got  to  take  out  that 
train.  He's  on  a  switch  engine  at  Tillman." 

Jim  was  continually  surprising  his  subordi- 
nates with  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  de- 
tails of  management.  Mattison  had  long  been 
accustomed  to  his  ways,  but  he  gave  Jim  a 
glance  of  wonder  before  he  repeated  the  order 
to  the  division  chief.  And  so  Jawn  was  called 
to  Manchester  as  the  nerviest  man  on  the  road. 

In  the  meantime  a  scene  not  unlike  that  at 
Truesdale  was  being  enacted  in  and  about  the 


1 90  The  Short  Line   War 

Manchester  station.  There  was  the  same  reti- 
cence, and  the  studied  quiet  and  perfect  disci- 
pline were  even  more  pronounced ;  for  with  Jim 
and  Harvey  to  issue  orders,  and  with  Mattison 
and  Mallory  to  execute  them,  the  chance  of  a 
slip  or  a  misunderstanding  was  too  slight  to  be 
considered.  A  long  train  of  tourist  cars  was 
made  up  shortly  after  noon  and  backed  into  the 
train  shed,  where  it  lay  awaiting  orders.  Jim 
had  no  very  definite  idea  of  using  it,  at  least 
until  force  was  the  only  expedient ;  but  he  had 
been  through  too  many  fights  to  be  caught  off 
his  guard.  Instructions  were  wired  from  the 
despatcher's  office  to  the  operators  all  along  the 
line,  ordering  them  to  report  promptly  any  ir- 
regularity or  suspicious  circumstance.  Mean- 
while the  regular  trains  for  Truesdale  pulled  out 
through  the  yards  and  went  on  their  way. 

When  Jawn  came  into  the  Superintendent's 
office  at  two  o'clock  he  found  a  group  of  men 
standing  in  nervous  attitudes,  all  evidently 
awaiting  orders.  A  boy  stopped  him  and  asked 
his  business. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Mattison,"  said  Jawn,  re- 
moving his  pipe  and  holding  it  awkwardly : 
Jawn,  though  at  home  on  an  engine,  was  ill  at 
ease  in  an  office. 


A  Capture  at  Bmshingham  191 

"Can't  see  him/'  snapped  the  boy;  "he's 
busy." 

"  He  sent  for  me." 

"  Name,  please." 

"  Donohue." 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Donohue." 

Jawn  sat  down  in  a  corner  and  the  boy  disap- 
peared. In  a  short  time  he  returned  and  led 
Jawn  to  Mattison's  desk.  Mattison  wasted  no 
time,  but  told  him  the  situation  in  a  few  sen- 
tences. "Now,  Donohue,"  he  said,  in  conclu- 
sion, "you  understand,  do  you,  that  we  are 
putting  a  big  responsibility  on  you  ?  Mr.  West 
will  be  in  command,  and  you  will  be  subject  to 
his  orders  without  question ;  but  if  for  any  rea- 
son you  should  have  to  act  rapidly,  or  should  be 
thrown  on  the  defensive,  I  shall  expect  you  to 
do  what  is  best  for  the  road.  Run  no  unneces- 
sary risks,  but  remember,  we  must  hold  the  line 
at  any  cost  —  if  we  lose  an  engine  doing  it.  Do 
you  understand  ? " 

Jawn,  standing  beside  the  oak  desk,  looked 
down  at  the  Superintendent  and  nodded  gravely. 
Mattison  returned  the  look  with  a  brief  search- 
ing gaze,  then  he  turned  to  his  work,  saying, 
"Very  well,  you  may  go." 


1 92  The  Short  Line   War 

Harvey  was  all  over  the  station.  The  strain 
of  the  last  two  days  had  told  upon  his  nerves, 
but  the  prospect  of  a  conflict  buoyed  him  up. 
He  had  a  long  talk  with  Mallory,  in  which  a 
campaign  was  mapped  out  as  fully  as  was  pos- 
sible in  the  circumstances.  It  had  been  decided 
to  hold  the  men  ready  to  board  the  train  at  a 
moment's  notice ;  but  Harvey,  as  three  o'clock 
came,  ordered  them  aboard,  for  he  realized  that 
the  longer  the  delay  the  greater  would  be  the 
need  of  prompt  action.  So  the  long  line  filed 
out  across  the  platform  to  the  waiting  cars,  and 
the  men  made  themselves  comfortable  for  a  long 
wait.  Mallory  stationed  two  of  his  own  men  in 
each  car  with  orders  to  maintain  strict  discipline. 
In  the  baggage  car  were  stored  extra  chains, 
hawsers,  coupling  links,  crowbars,  patent  frogs, 
and  every  other  device  which,  in  Mattison's  es- 
timation, could  be  used  in  case  of  extreme  cir- 
cumstances, and  there  were  chairs  for  Harvey 
and  his  lieutenants. 

Later  Harvey  walked  up  to  the  engine,  where 
Jawn  and  his  fireman  were  oiling  and  polishing. 

"  Everything  all  right,  Donohue  ? "  he  asked. 

Jawn  growled  and  looked  back  at  the  coal  in 
the  tender. 


A  Capture  at  Brushingham  193 

"  She  ain't  much  of  an  engine/'  he  replied. 

Harvey  looked  her  over.  She  was  an  ordi- 
nary light  yard  engine  with  a  footboard  in  place 
of  the  pilot  and  with  a  sloping  tank.  He  called 
to  the  yard  master  who  stood  near. 

"  Haven't  you  got  a  better  engine  than  this, 
Pratt?" 

Pratt  came  across  the  platform. 

"I  understood  you  wanted  an  old  one,"  he 
said. 

"We  do,"  replied  Harvey;  "but  we  want 
one  that  will  hold  a  little  water,  and  one  that 
can  make  time  if  necessary." 

"  Shall  I  change,  sir  ?  " 

"It  rests  with  the  engineer.  Donohue,  can 
you  do  anything  with  this  engine  ?  " 

Jawn  leaned  against  the  cab  and  slowly 
shook  his  head. 

"  Get  another,  then,"  said  Harvey,  and  as  the 
change  was  effected  Jawn's  heart  was  won.  In 
an  unreasoning  way  he  promptly  attributed  his 
changed  condition  to  Harvey;  for  in  spite  of  his 
gruff  shell  the  kernel  of  Jawn's  nature  was  keenly 
susceptible  to  kindness,  and  to  him  a  good  en- 
gine and  plenty  of  authority  was  the  greatest 
kindness  in  life. 


194  The  Short  Line  War 

For  two  hours  the  train  waited.  Then,  at 
five  o'clock,  a  detail  was  sent  into  the  restau- 
rant, and  the  men  were  supplied  with  sand- 
wiches and  coffee,  eating  without  leaving  their 
seats.  In  half  an  hour  all  were  fed,  and  they 
stretched  out  on  the  cane  seats  as  comfortably 
as  their  crowded  condition  permitted.  The 
long  wait  did  not  improve  tempers,  and  it  was  a 
sullen,  weary  train  load  that  counted  the  min- 
utes on  into  the  dusk.  Jawn  sat  on  his  high 
seat  and  dozed. 

The  suspense  was  even  more  tense  in  the 
offices  on  the  second  floor  of  the  station.  Jim 
and  Harvey  spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  pri- 
vate office,  going  over  every  possible  combina- 
tion of  circumstances,  Jim  giving  Harvey  ex- 
plicit directions  for  each  case — when  to  use 
force,  when  not,  when  to  call  on  the  law,  and 
when  to  send  for  aid.  Occasionally  Jim  would 
call  in  Mattison  to  ask  a  question  concerning 
some  detail  of  the  road,  or  he  would  send  for 
Mallory  to  explain  more  fully  his  directions.  It 
was  plain  that  Jim  desired  to  leave  nothing  to 
chance,  now  that  the  real  struggle  was  on,  but 
to  throw  all  his  available  resources  into  the  con- 
flict. Mattison  had  a  map  drawn  for  Harvey, 


A  Capture  at  Brushingham  195 

which  showed  every  station,  curve,  switch,  and 
siding ;  this  Harvey  studied  during  the  lulls  in 
the  conversation,  and  as  he  already  was  familiar 
with  all  but  the  minor  details  of  construction,  he 
soon  had  his  information  upon  a  working  basis. 
At  six-fifteen  Mattison  came  in. 

"Mr.  Weeks,"  he  said,  "the  despatcher  reports 
something  the  matter.  For  two  or  three  hours, 
he  says,  the  local  reports  have  been  confused 
and  unsatisfactory.  A  few  minutes  ago  he 
called  up  Tillman  City  and  hasn't  yet  succeeded 
in  getting  any  reply.  The  local  men  are  send- 
ing in  train  reports,  but  something  isn't  right. 
He's  got  a  notion  that  they  aren't  our  old 
men." 

"  Tell  them  to  try  again,"  said  Jim.  "  Ask 
them  something  a  new  man  wouldn't  know." 

Mattison  left  the  office  and  hurried  to  the 
stairway.  On  the  landing  he  met  a  newsboy 
who  was  running  up,  calling :  — 

"  Shcago  Even'  Papers !  Extry !  All  about 
big  railroad  war !  " 

Mattison  seized  a  paper  and  glanced  at  the 
headings.  "Fight  for  M.  &  T.,"  he  read. 
"Trunk  Line  Gobbles  Small  Road."  His  eye 
ran  over  the  article;  it  was  dated  that  after- 


196  The  Short  Line  War 

noon  from  Truesdale.  He  turned  and  ran  up 
the  stairs,  dashing  into  Jim's  office  and  spread- 
ing the  paper  on  the  table. 

"It's  up  to  us,"  he  said.  "They've  been  at 
work  all  the  afternoon." 

As  he  spoke  a  boy  came  running  into  the 
office. 

"  Message  from  Byron,  sir." 

Mattison  snatched  the  paper  and  read  aloud, — 

C.  &  S.  C.  train  leaving  Tillman  north  seizing  road. 

STEVENS. 

"That's  the  Tillman  agent,"  said  Mattison. 
"  What's  he  doing  at  Byron  ? " 

"Probably  had  to  run  for  it,"  responded 
Harvey,  putting  on  his  hat  and  buttoning  his 
coat.  "  That  means  fast  work.  Clear  the  track 
for  me,  Mattison." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Jim.  "Have  we  any 
trains  north  of  Byron  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Then  don't  send  any  orders.  They  would 
warn  the  other  side.  No,  go  ahead  and  beat 
them  if  you  have  to  break  their  heads." 

As  Harvey  dashed  out  of  the  office  Jim's  eyes 
sparkled.  He  liked  to  do  his  own  fighting,  and 


*/*J 


A^^ 


VJ 


2** 


.,2«~if 


^* 


HARVEY'S  MAP  OF  THE  M.  4  T. 


A  Capture  at  Brushingkam  197 

it  was  half  regretfully  that  he  turned  to  the  Su- 
perintendent. 

"  If  they're  as  near  as  that,  Mattison,  it  means 
trouble.  You'd  better  collect  another  gang  and 
send  it  out  after  West.  Take  men  off  the  trains, 
out  of  the  yards,  anywhere  you  can  get  them.'1 

The  wheels  were  soon  in  motion  again,  and 
another  train  backed  under  the  iron  roof  and 
slowly  filled  with  brawny  men. 

Harvey  swung  aboard  his  train  and  it  started 
with  a  jerk,  rolling  rapidly  over  the  network  of 
tracks,  past  the  switch  tower,  under  the  signal 
bridge,  and  out  toward  the  open  country.  The 
little  army  was  not  sullen  now.  Figures  sat  erect, 
eyes  flashed,  young  men  spoke  eagerly,  older  ones 
gruffly,  and  through  the  train  ran  a  steady  mur- 
mur of  inquisitive  wonder.  Apparently,  save  for 
a  few  dozen  sticks  and  clubs,  the  men  were  not 
armed,  but  many  hip  pockets  bulged  suspiciously. 

In  the  baggage  car  Harvey  and  Mallory  were 
talking  earnestly.  Mallory  was  for  travelling 
slowly  lest  they  should  encounter  a  loose  rail 
or  an  open  switch,  but  Harvey  disagreed.  He 
spread  the  map  out  on  a  box  and  rested  a 
finger  on  the  dot  marked  Tillman  City. 

"There  they  are,"  he  said,  "or  were  a  few 


198  The  Short  Line  War 

minutes  ago,  and  they're  coming  right  toward 
us.  Now,  to  keep  us  from  getting  word  they 
have  to  stop  at  every  telegraph  station,  and  that 
takes  time.  We've  got  a  clear  track  and  can 
travel  fully  twice  as  fast  as  they  can.  Here  " 
—  he  moved  his  finger  up  the  line  of  the  road  — 
"  here  at  Brushingham  is  a  long  siding.  I  want 
to  make  that  siding  before  they  do." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  we  must  pass  them  there." 

"  They  aren't  going  to  lie  up  and  let  us  run 
by." 

"Yes,  they  are,"  said  Harvey.  "Wait  a  mo- 
ment." He  called  to  a  brakeman  who  stood  at 
the  door,  "Go  up  to  the  engine  and  tell  the 
engineer  to  get  to  the  siding  at  Brushingham  at 
full  speed." 

The  man  nodded  and  ran  forward.  Another 
moment  and  those  in  the  baggage  car  felt  a 
jerk  and  a  lift,  and  soon  they  were  rattling  over 
the  rails  with  sway  and  roll.  Harvey,  mean- 
time, was  explaining  to  Mallory  a  plan  which 
made  that  veteran  chuckle  merrily.  His  eyes 
wandered  to  the  heap  of  chains,  ropes,  and  iron 
piled  on  each  side  of  the  rear  door,  and  he 
chuckled  again.  But  Harvey's  face  was  serious. 


A  Capture  at  Brushingham  199 

"  It's  something  of  a  question  whether  we 
can  get  there  in  time,  Mallory.  It's  a  sixty-five 
mile  run  for  us  to  thirty-eight  for  them.  We 
have  all  the  advantage,  of  course,  but  there 
won't  be  any  time  to  spare."  He  drew  out  his 
watch  and  timed  the  clicks  of  the  rails.  "  He's 
hitting  it  up  in  good  style.'* 

"  What  are  we  making  ? " 

"  About  fifty,  and  pulling  up  all  the  time.  It 
won't  take  us  much  over  an  hour  at  this  rate, 
and  I  don't  believe  that  they  can  make  it  in  any- 
thing like  that  time.  There  are  a  lot  of  little 
stations  north  of  Tillman,  and  they've  got  to 
stop  at  every  one." 

Nevertheless,  as  the  minute  hand  crept 
around  the  watch,  the  two  men  began  to 
peer  out  through  the  side  window.  It  was 
dark  now,  and  as  the  landmarks  were  not  too 
familiar  either  to  Harvey  or  to  Mallory,  they 
were  unable  to  get  their  bearings. 

"  Where  are  we  ? "  Harvey  called  to  the 
brakeman. 

"  Getting  into  St.  Johns,"  was  the  reply. 

Sure  enough,  in  another  moment  colored  yard 
lights  were  whizzing  by.  There  was  a  great 
clatter  as  they  took  the  switches,  then  a  row  of 


200  The  Short  Line  War 

streaked  electric  lights,  a  dim  impression  of 
streets  and  of  clanging  bells,  a  shriek  from  the 
locomotive,  and  again  they  were  in  the  open. 
A  few  minutes  later  Harvey  gave  orders  that  a 
brakeman  climb  forward  on  the  engine  ready  to 
throw  the  Brushingham  switch.  Soon  the  car 
jarred  and  struggled  under  the  air  brake,  and 
then  slowed  down,  grinding  and  pounding, 
almost  to  a  stop.  The  brakes  were  released, 
and  the  train  rolled  easily  out  beyond  the 
station  on  to  the  long  siding.  Harvey  pulled 
the  signal  cord. 

"  Now,  Mallory,"  he  said,  as  the  train  came 
to  a  standstill,  "we  can  go  ahead." 

Mallory  picked  up  a  patent  frog  from  the 
floor,  and  with  Harvey  and  the  brakeman 
swung  out  of  the  car  and  ran  down  the  track. 
From  the  windows  projected  a  long  row  of 
heads,  but  no  questions  were  asked  as  the  three 
men  ran  forward.  A  short  distance  ahead  of 
the  engine  they  stopped.  Away  to  the  south  a 
small  bright  light  rounded  into  view. 

"  Here  she  comes,"  said  Mallory. 

Harvey  made  no  reply,  and  the  frog  was 
adjusted  to  the  east  rail  of  the  main  track. 
Then  they  went  back  and  clambered  aboard  the 


A  Capture  at  Brushingham  2OI 

engine.  Mallory  ordered  a  squad  of  men  forward, 
and  stationed  some  on  the  pilot  and  running 
board,  others  on  the  tender  and  front  platform. 
The  light  grew  slowly  larger,  sending  out  pointed 
rays  and  throwing  a  shine  on  the  rails.  There 
was  the  sound  of  a  bell  and  of  the  exhaust,  and 
the  train  pulled  slowly  toward  the  bleak  little 
station.  Suddenly,  when  within  speaking  dis- 
tance, the  approaching  engine  struck  the  patent 
frog  and  left  the  rails  with  a  jar  and  a  scrape, 
ploughing  her  nose  into  the  slag. 

"Go  ahead/'  said  Harvey. 

Jawn  pulled  the  throttle  lever,  and  the  long 
train  moved  slowly  southward.  No.  14  was  not 
full  now.  The  process  of  dropping  men  at  every 
station  had  left  only  about  half  the  employees, 
who  clustered  in  the  forward  cars  and  looked 
curiously  at  the  passing  train.  At  a  shouted 
order  from  Mallory,  one  of  his  men  dropped  off 
with  a  squad  at  his  back  and  took  possession  of 
the  wreck,  while  Harvey,  flushed  with  victory, 
moved  on  to  undo  the  work  of  the  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  XV 

DEUS   EX   MACHINA 

As  Senator  Sporty  Jones  stood  on  the  Saw- 
yerville  platform  and  watched  No.  14  vanishing 
round  a  curve,  his  rage  against  the  Superin- 
tendent cooled  somewhat  and  hardened  into  a 
determination  to  make  somebody  pay.  The 
more  he  thought  of  it  the  clearer  it  grew  that 
the  "  somebody  "  should  be  a  bigger  man  than 
McDowell,  though  Sporty  meant  to  get  even 
with  him,  too,  some  day.  He  knew,  as  did 
every  one  who  had  read  the  newspapers,  the 
broad  outlines  of  the  fight  between  Weeks  and 
Porter  for  the  road.  As  he  thought  it  over,  the 
problem  seemed  to  grow  more  complicated. 
The  Senator  hated  the  two  men  about  equally 
and  had  a  long  score  against  each  of  them ;  for 
though  both  were  lobbyists  on  a  large  scale, 
neither  of  them  had  thought  him  worth  concili- 
ating. He  was  afraid  lest  in  trying  to  hurt  one 
he  might  help  the  other. 


Deus  ex  Machina  203 

He  was  capable  of  quick,  clear  thinking,  and 
as  he  ran  over  in  his  mind  what  he  knew  of  the 
fight,  he  saw  that  what  encouraged  these  men 
so  openly  to  resort  to  violence  was  a  judicial 
deadlock.  There  was  just  one  force  which 
could  profitably  be  appealed  to  now,  the  State 
Executive. 

He  walked  slowly  down  the  rickety  wooden 
steps  and  across  the  road ;  then,  after  looking 
about  irresolutely,  he  turned  toward  the  weather- 
beaten  little  hotel. 

Before  he  had  gone  far  the  deposed  station 
agent  overtook  him.  He  was  smoking  a  ciga- 
rette with  short,  nervous  puffs,  and  he  fell  in 
step  with  the  Senator,  evidently  relieved  at 
having  a  chance  to  talk. 

"What  did  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked. 
"  Pretty  sudden,  wasn't  it  ? " 

The  Senator  grunted  a  savage  assent,  and 
the  agent  went  on  :  — 

"Well,  all  I  say  is,  these  fellows  needn't 
think  they've  got  any  cinch  until  Jim  Weeks 
has  had  his  innings.  He's  going  to  have  it, 
too.  This  kind  of  a  scrap  is  right  in  his  line." 

The  Senator  seemed  to  be  listening,  and 
the  agent  was  encouraged  to  try  his  hand  at 


204  The  Short  Line   War 

prophesying  what  would  happen  when  Jim 
Weeks  should  come  down  the  line.  When  they 
reached  the  hotel  both  men  paused,  and  the 
Senator  said  affably,  — 

"  Come  in  and  have  something." 

"  All  right,  if  you  mean  ginger  ale,"  laughed 
the  agent.  "It's  a  temperance  house,  with  a 
gold  cure  on  the  side." 

The  disgust  of  Senator  Sporty  Jones  was 
expressed  with  such  blasphemous  force  that  the 
agent  was  moved  to  add,  — 

"  You  can  get  anything  you  want  down  in  the 
next  block."  * 

"All  right,"  grunted  the  Senator.  "Wait  a 
minute,  though ;  I  want  to  telephone." 

"There  ain't  a  telephone  in  town,"  said  the 
agent.  "  The  line  goes  up  the  other  side  of  the 
river  to  Tillman.  I  don't  believe  you  can  find  a 
'phone  nearer  than  Truesdale." 

"  How  far's  that  ? "  asked  the  Senator,  after 
an  expressive  pause. 

"'Bout  fifteen  miles  by  the  river  road.  You 
have  to  go  round  by  way  of  Oakwood.  It's 
going  to  rain,  too,"  he  added,  glancing  at  the 
clouded  sky. 

The  look  of  annoyance  on  the  Senator's  face 


Deus  ex  Machina  205 

settled  into  one  of  determination,  and  the  agent 
began  to  fear  lest  the  invitation  to  "have  some- 
thing "  had  slipped  from  the  great  man's  mind. 

The  Senator  asked  slowly,  "  Is  there  such  a 
thing  as  a  livery  stable  in  this  "  —  he  gulped  — 
"  in  this  town  ? " 

"  I  guess  old  man  Barnes  could  let  you  have 
some  sort  of  a  horse.  He's  got  a  place  just  the 
other  side  of  Hogan's.  I'll  go  down  there  with 
you  if  you  like." 

The  parley  with  Barnes  took  only  a  few 
minutes,  and  at  half-past  three  the  Senator 
drove  down  the  main  street  and  turned  west 
toward  the  river  road.  His  vehicle  was  a  light 
delivery  wagon  with  a  canopy  over  it,  and  was 
drawn  by  a  ragged  old  white  horse,  which, 
according  to  the  livery  man,  was  an  exceptional 
animal. 

"The  General's  an  aristocrat,  he  is,"  said 
Barnes.  "  I  might  say  a  thoroughbred.  I 
hate  like  poison  to  let  him  out  to  a  stranger, 
but  I  let  you  take  him  because  I  see  you  under- 
stand a  horse." 

There  was  no  flicker  of  intelligence  in  the 
agent's  face  as  he  heard  the  words,  but  when 
the  Senator  asked  him  to  accompany  him  on 


206  The  Short  Line  War 

the  drive  he  declined.  "  I  want  to  be  on  hand," 
he  explained,  "when  Jim  Weeks  comes  down  the 
line."  So  Senator  Jones  started  out  alone  on 
his  drive  to  Truesdale,  and  the  agent  watched 
him  from  the  door  of  Hogan's  saloon.  "  Go  along 
with  him!"  he  thought.  "I  guess  not.  It'd 
be  a  circus,  though,  to  see  what  happens  when 
they  get  to  the  river  bridge."  Then,  as  Barnes 
joined  him  on  the  steps,  he  added,  "  What  do 
you  suppose  the  General  will  do  to  him  ? " 

"  Oh,  he  won't  hurt  him,"  answered  Barnes. 
"  He'll  just  turn  around  and  come  home  when 
he  gets  good  and  ready.  Come  in  and  have 
something." 

The  General  took  a  violent  dislike  to  the 
Senator.  It  annoyed  him  to  have  people  try 
to  make  him  go  whither  he  would  not,  and  he 
shook  his  head  angrily  in  response  to  the  impa- 
tient jerks  at  the  reins.  When  the  Senator 
tried  to  accelerate  the  pace  by  whacking  his 
toughened  flanks  with  the  whip,  he  kicked  up 
his  heels  derisively  and  then  stumbled  along 
more  wearily  if  possible  than  before. 

The  miles  crept  by  as  slowly  as  he  could 
wish,  and  he  was  pleased  when  they  passed  a 
fork  of  the  road  and  he  knew  he  was  being 


Deus  ex  Machina  207 

driven  to  the  river.  He  disliked  rivers,  and 
had  long  ago  decided  that  he  would  never  cross 
one.  That  his  resolution  had  once  been  broken 
was  not  his  fault,  for  they  had  dragged  him 
over  the  Oakwood  bridge  at  the  end  of  a  stout 
rope;  but  this  only  made  him  firmer  in  his 
determination,  and  people  who  drove  him  were 
wont  to  stay  on  the  west  side  of  the  river. 

Old  man  Barnes  had  given  the  Senator  no 
hint  of  this  prejudice  of  the  aristocratic  animal 
he  was  driving,  so  he  had  no  foreboding  of 
what  was  going  to  happen.  Now  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  worse  than  use- 
less to  try  to  interfere  with  the  General,  he  was 
jogging  along  in  comparative  comfort,  regard- 
less of  the  rain  which  had  grown  from  a  fine 
drizzle  to  a  steady  downpour.  He  thought  the 
chances  were  in  favor  of  his  reaching  Trues- 
dale  and  a  telephone  by  midnight.  He  smiled 
at  the  thought,  for  he  had  evolved  a  scheme 
that  would  disconcert  both  of  the  contestants 
for  the  M.  &  T.  alike,  and  would  show  them 
that  he,  State  Senator  Sporty  Jones,  was  not  a 
man  to  be  sneezed  at. 

About  a  half  a  mile  above  the  Oakwood  Club 
House  and  in  full  view  of  it  the  road  crosses  the 


208  The  Short  Line  War 

river,  and  the  Senator  noticed  the  big,  rambling 
building  on  top  of  the  hill,  and  wondered  if 
they  had  a  telephone  there.  "  I'll  try  and  see, 
anyway,"  he  thought. 

The  General  turned  willingly  up  the  approach 
to  the  bridge,  increasing  his  speed  to  an  almost 
respectable  trot.  When  he  reached  the  top 
he  stopped  in  his  tracks  and  stared  with  dis- 
favor at  the  worn  planks  before  him.  The  Sen- 
ator snatched  the  whip  from  its  socket  and  beat 
upon  the  General  until  his  arms  were  tired. 
At  every  blow  the  horse  would  kick  feebly,  and 
then  resume  a  droop-eared  attitude,  as  though 
grieving  over  the  depravity  of  man.  The  Sen- 
ator looked  around  helplessly,  but  there  was 
no  aid  in  sight,  so  he  climbed  down  from  the 
wagon  and  walked  around  to  the  bridle.  The 
General  may  have  suspected  another  attempt 
at  dragging,  for  a  vicious  snap  of  his  yellow 
teeth  caused  the  Senator  to  step  back  out  of 
reach,  completely  baffled.  He  stared  an  instant 
at  the  solemn  face  before  him  and  then  shaking 
the  whip  he  said,  — 

"You've  got  me  down  this  time,  damn  you, 
but  I'll  —  " 

The    Senator    stopped,    his    favorite    threat 


Deus  ex  Machina  209 

unuttered,  threw  the  whip  into  the  river  and 
turning,  walked  slowly  across  the  bridge,  and 
as  he  went  the  story  he  meant  to  tell  over  the 
'phone  to  the  Governor  grew  to  fearful  pro- 
portions. As  for  the  General,  when  he  saw 
that  the  victory  was  won,  he  turned  about  and 
sauntered  back  to  Sawyerville. 

In  the  party  of  golfers  whom  the  rain  had 
driven  from  the  links  to  the  shelter  of  the  Oak- 
wood  Club  was  Katherine.  She  had  gone  once 
around  the  short  course  and  perversely  enough 
her  score  was  unusually  good ;  but  she  could 
not  get  her  mind  off  the  more  exciting  game 
which  she  knew  must  be  in  progress  along  the 
railway  line  west  of  the  river.  Altogether  she 
welcomed  the  rain,  and  was  glad  when  its  in- 
creasing violence  drove  them  to  the  shelter  of 
the  club  house.  There  at  least  she  was  near 
a  telephone.  She  had  no  disposition  to  make 
one  of  the  merry  group  of  men  and  girls  who 
were  drying  out  before  the  crackling  log  fire, 
but  after  a  moment  of  hesitation  she  joined  the 
circle. 

One  of  the  men  was  standing  by  a  window, 
peering  through  a  field-glass  at  the  more  ardent 


2io  The  Short  Line  War 

and  impervious  enthusiasts  who  were  still  follow- 
ing the  ball. 

"  The  rain's  letting  up  a  bit,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  You  can  really  see  things  —  hello !  " 

The  group  before  the  fire  turned  toward  him, 
attracted  by  the  long  silence  which  followed  the 
exclamation.  They  saw  a  look  of  puzzlement 
on  his  face  which  gradually  gave  place  to  a 
broad  grin. 

"What's  up ? "  asked  somebody. 

"  By  George,'1  he  exclaimed,  lowering  the 
glass,  "that's  funny."  He  raised  the  glass 
again  and  this  time  his  shoulders  shook. 

"  I  didn't  know  anybody  out  on  the  links 
could  be  as  funny  as  that,"  one  of  the  girls 
observed. 

"He  isn't  on  the  links,"  answered  the  man 
with  the  glass,  "  he's  on  the  bridge.  And  the 
horse  is  turning  round  and  going  back."  With 
which  singularly  lucid  preface,  the  young  man 
told  what  he  had  seen  of  the  General's  victory 
at  the  Oakwood  bridge. 

It  was  about  fifteen  minutes  later  when  Sporty 
appeared,  dripping  and,  mud  bespattered,  but 
kept  warm  by  glowing  fires  of  indignation, 
and  vigorously  demanded  of  the  attendant  the 


Deus  ex  Machina  211 

use  of  the  telephone.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice 
one  of  the  older  men  turned  quickly  and  ap- 
proached him  with  a  word  of  greeting.  "  But 
what's  the  matter  with  you,  man  ?  "  he  added, 
noting  the  Senator's  sorry  condition. 

"  They're  having  a  riot  on  the  railroad,"  an- 
swered Sporty.  "  Can  I  use  your  'phone  ? " 

"  Sure,"  answered  the  other.  "  Right  this 
way,"  and  the  two  men  crossed  the  hall  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  office.  A  few  minutes  later  the 
man  came  back  and  rejoined  the  group. 

"  He's  State  Senator  Jones,  Sporty  Jones,  you 
know.  He  says  they're  having  no  end  of  a 
time  over  on  the  railroad.  When  I  left  him  he 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  telephone  all  over  the 
State  at  once." 

"I've  heard  of  him,"  said  Katherine,  "but 
I've  never  met  him.  I  wish  you'd  bring  him 
here  after  he  gets  through  telephoning."  And 
the  man  with  some  surprise  said  he  would. 

The  Senator  did  not  reappear  from  the  office 
for  nearly  an  hour,  and  in  that  time  he  worked 
fast.  He  began  by  calling  up  Representative 
Jim  deary  of  the  Seventh  District,  a  man  with 
influence  who  happened  to  be  in  the  capital  on 
business.  The  Senator  wasted  no  oratory  on 


212  The  Short  Line   War 

him,  he  simply  told  him  what  it  was  necessary 
to  do.  After  that  he  talked  with  other  men 
about  the  State,  and  repeated  what  he  had  said 
to  Jim  Cleary,  suggesting  to  them  the  proper 
way  for  putting  "  pressure  "  on  the  Governor. 
Then,  having  prepared  his  avalanche,  he  tele- 
phoned to  the  executive  mansion  and  asked  for 
the  Governor.  He  learned  from  the  Secretary 
that  the  Governor  was  busy,  but  would  be  at 
liberty  in  a  few  minutes. 

"All  right,"  said  Sporty.  "Let  me  know 
when  he's  ready  to  talk  to  me." 

He  rang  off  and  rose  from  his  chair,  stiffly, 
for  the  damp  and  the  cold  had  struck  through. 
The  man  he  knew  appeared  at  his  elbow,  and 
leading  him  in  to  the  fire  introduced  him  to  those 
who  were  still  grouped  about  it,  to  Katherine 
last  of  all. 

"You  must  have  had  an  afternoon  full  of 
experiences,0  she  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Senator.  "I  enjoyed 
my  drive  over  from  Sawyerville  immensely. 
The  weather  was  somewhat  unpleasant,  but  I 
had  an  excellent  horse  and  we  made  very  good 
time,  until  we  got  a  hot-box.  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  vehicle  with  a  farmer,  and  walked  the 
last  two  miles." 


Deus  ex  Machina  213 

"  Indeed  ? "  said  Katherine.  "  But  please  tell 
me  about  the  riot.  It  must  have  been  very 
exciting. " 

"I  hardly  think  it  would  interest  a  lady/' 
said  Sporty,  uneasily. 

"  Senator  Jones/'  —  Katherine  was  speaking 
with  much  severity,  —  "I  did  not  think  when  I 
first  saw  you  that  you  could  prove  so  disagree- 
able." 

Sporty  beamed.  "  It  wasn't  very  much  of  a 
riot/'  he  said.  "They  just  hit  the  fireman 
behind  the  ear  and  put  handcuffs  on  the  engi- 
neer, and  started  out  to  grab  the  road.  They'll 
have  to  fight  for  it." 

"  Was  what  they  did  legal  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  no ;  not  at  all.     It's  just  a  hold-up."      j 

The  Senator  was  saying  rather  more  than  he 
meant  to,  and  he  was  glad  that  the  telephone 
bell  broke  off  the  conversation  at  this  point. 
He  excused  himself  abruptly  and  went  to  have 
a  talk  with  the  Governor. 

Katherine  walked  to  a  window  and  stood 
staring  out  with  unseeing  eyes.  At  last  she 
turned  to  a  man  who  stood  near  her  and  said :  — 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  going  to  rain  any  more. 
Will  you  have  them  bring  up  my  trap,  please  ? " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

McNALLY'S   EXPEDIENT 

KATHERINE'S  casual  acquaintances  thought  of 
her  as  a  cool,  unemotional  young  woman,  and 
when  asked  for  their  estimate  of  her  would  give 
it  with  confidence  that  it  was  accurate.  The 
few  who  knew  her  better  were  less  sure  what 
they  thought  of  her,  and  there  was  considerable 
diversity  in  their  opinions.  She  had  a  strong 
will  and  plenty  of  confidence  in  it.  Until  she 
had  found  herself  standing  between  Harvey 
West  and  her  father,  she  never  had  the  least 
doubt  that  in  any  situation  she  would  be  able  to 
do  what  she  wanted.  But  without  knowing  it 
she  liked  to  let  her  impulses  direct  her,  and  her 
confidence  that  her  will  could,  if  necessary, 
overrule  them  gave  them  freer  play  than  they 
would  have  had  in  a  weaker  personality.  She 
was  keenly  sensitive  —  and  this  she  recognized 
—  to  the  atmosphere  of  her  immediate  envi- 
ronment. 

214 


McNaltys  Expedient  215 

To-day  the  gray  of  the  dripping  sky  and 
the  sullen  river  and  the  pasty  macadam  road 
seemed  to  have  got  into  her  thoughts  and  to 
pervade  everything.  There  was  a  feeling  of 
eternity  in  the  gathering  twilight  as  though 
there  had  never  been  anything  else  and  never 
would  be.  But  she  knew  there  had;  it  was 
only  three  days  since  she  and  Harvey  had 
driven  along  this  road.  She  recalled  the 
glisten  of  the  sunlight  on  the  river,  and  the 
crimson  of  the  hard  maples  stained  by  the  first 
early  frost,  and  she  knew  it  was  not  the  sunshine 
nor  the  tingle  in  the  air  nor  the  beautiful  way 
in  which  Ned  and  Nick  flew  along  stride  for 
stride  over  the  hard  white  road,  but  something 
else,  something  quite  different,  which  had  made 
her  glad  that  Sunday  morning.  She  looked 
straight  ahead  and  tried  to  imagine  that  not  the 
wooden  English  groom,  but  Harvey,  sat  beside 
her.  Then  realizing  whither  her  imaginings 
were  drifting,  she  pulled  herself  up  sharply. 
"  You  sentimental  idiot !  "  she  thought. 

The  groom  spoke.  "  Beg  pardon,  Miss  Kath- 
erine  ? "  and  she  knew  she  must  have  thought 
aloud. 

Just  then  a  black  tree  stump  at  the  roadside 


216  The  Short  Line  War 

seemed  to  spring  out  of  the  ghostly  twilight, 
and  Nick,  who  never  had  the  blues,  amused 
himself  by  shying  at  it.  Ned  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  lark  and  over  the  next  mile  these  two 
good  friends  of  Katherine's  supplied  her  with 
just  the  kind  of  tonic  she  needed. 

It  was  late  when  she  reached  home  and  she 
had  but  a  narrow  margin  of  time  left  in  which 
to  dress  for  dinner ;  but  telling  the  groom  not  to 
take  the  horses  to  the  stable  she  hurried  into 
the  house  and  came  out  a  moment  later  with 
a  handful  of  sugar.  The  two  beautiful  heads 
turned  toward  her  as  she  came  down  the  steps 
and  Nick  gave  a  satisfied  little  whicker.  She 
fed  them  alternately,  a  lump  at  a  time,  talking 
to  them  all  the  while  in  the  friendly  bantering 
way  they  liked.  She  was  quite  impartial  with 
the  sugar,  but  while  Ned  with  lowered  head 
was  sniffing  at  her  pockets  for  more,  she  laid 
her  cheek  against  Nick's  white,  silky  nose  and 
whispered  to  him:  — 

"I  think  I  like  you  best  to-night.  You  did 
just  right  to  shy  at  that  stump.  No,  Ned,  it 
wouldn't  be  good  for  you  to  eat  any  more  sugar 
just  before  dinner.  Good-by.  If  it  wouldn't 
shock  father  and  dent  the  floor,  I'd  take  you 


McNaltys  Expedient  217 

into  the  house  with  me.  But  I  don't  suppose 
you'd  like  it,  though." 

Katherine  was  glad  she  was  late  and  that  she 
had  to  dress  in  a  hurry.  What  she  dreaded 
was  being  left  alone  with  nothing  to  do  but 
think.  She  had  gone  over  the  ground  again 
and  again  until  she  had  lost  her  sense  of  pro- 
portion. She  had  tried  to  believe  that  the  raid 
was  right  and  that  her  father's  methods  were 
above  reproach ;  she  had  tried  to  be  unwavering 
in  her  loyalty  to  his  cause,  but  in  spite  of  her- 
self McNally's  allusions  and  the  fragmentary 
conversations  she  had  overheard  raised  doubts 
which  her  father's  evasions  did  not  set  at  rest. 
In  spite  of  herself  her  sympathies  swung  to 
the  square,  straightforward,  courageous  young 
fellow  who  had  got  into  her  heart  without  her 
knowing  it.  She  had  tried  to  make  herself  be- 
lieve her  father's  insinuations  about  Jim  Weeks; 
but  what  Harvey  had  told  her,  in  his  undis- 
criminating,  hero-worshipping  way,  had  made 
too  deep  an  impression  for  that. 

When  she  had  finished  dressing,  as  she  stood 
before  the  mirror  to  take  a  final  survey,  she  ad- 
dressed a  parting  remark  to  the  figure  in  the 
glass :  — 


218  The  Short  Line  War 

"  It  won't  do  you  any  good  to  go  on  bother- 
ing this  way.  You  haven't  anything  to  do  now 
but  go  down  to  dinner  and  be  as  charming  as 
possible,  particularly  to  Mr.  McNally,  whom 
you  cordially  detest.  When  the  time  comes  to 
do  something,  I  hope  you'll  do  it  right." 

It  was  just  seven  o'clock  when  she  came  down 
the  stairs  to  be  informed  by  the  butler  that  the 
gentlemen  had  not  come  home  yet,  and  should 
he  serve  dinner  at  once  ? 

Katherine  waited  nearly  half  an  hour,  trying 
to  amuse  herself  with  a  very  pictorial  magazine, 
and,  finding  that  tiresome,  by  playing  coon  songs 
at  the  piano.  But  the  piano  reminded  her  of  Mr. 
McNally,  and  she  didn't  want  to  think  of  him ; 
so  giving  up  trying  to  wait  she  ordered  dinner. 

Dining  alone  when  you  have  made  up  your 
mind  to  it  beforehand  is  not  an  unmixed  evil; 
but  in  Katherine's  frame  of  mind  it  was  about 
as  irritating  as  anything  could  be.  When  it 
was  over  she  called  for  her  coffee  in  a  big  cup, 
and  she  drank  it,  black  and  bitter,  with  a  relish. 
The  frown  which  for  the  last  hour  had  been 
contracting  her  level  brows  disappeared,  for 
she  had  thought  of  something  to  do.  As  she 
rose  from  the  table  she  said  to  the  butler :  — 


McNally' s  Expedient  219 

"Will  you  order  the  carriage,  please,  right 
away.  I'm  going  out." 

Porter  was  with  McNally  in  one  of  the  offices 
of  the  M.  &  T.  station.  The  two  had  been  sit- 
ting there  ever  since  the  building  had  been 
seized  by  the  deputies,  getting  satisfactory  re- 
ports from  station  after  station  as  the  raiders 
moved  up  the  line.  Porter  was  on  the  point  of 
starting  home  for  dinner  when  the  reports  began 
coming  in  from  Tillman  City.  The  first  of  the 
yellow  sheets  the  boy  brought  them  simply  re- 
peated the  news  that  had  come  in  so  many  times 
that  afternoon.  The  station  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  C.  &  S.  C.  men,  and  there  had  been  no 
resistance.  But  the  second  sheet  was  less  satis- 
factory, for  it  told  of  Stevens's  escape  on  the 
yard  engine. 

Porter  read  it  and  exclaimed  petulantly,  "  Mc- 
Dowell must  have  been  asleep  when  he  let  a 
man  get  away  like  that." 

"  Do  you  think  there's  much  harm  done  ? " 
asked  McNally. 

"  I'm  afraid  so.  Weeks  will  hear  all  about  it 
in  a  few  minutes,  if  he  hasn't  already,  and  he's 
sure  to  hit  back.  He  moves  quick,  too." 

"  We  can  wire  McDowell  to  stay  right  where 


220  The  Short  Line  War 

he  is,  and  rush  through  another  train  with  re- 
enforcements,"  suggested  McNally.  "We  may 
not  be  able  to  get  the  rest,  but  we  can  at  least 
keep  what  we've  got." 

"You'd  better  make  up  another  train,  any- 
way. We  can  fill  it  up  with  men  from  our  car- 
shops.  McDowell  had  better  keep  right  on  up 
the  line.  If  we  have  to  fight,  it'll  be  better 
to  do  it  at  some  small  place  than  at  Tillman. 
We're  less  likely  to  be  interfered  with.  Tell 
McDowell  to  go  slow  and  not  too  far/' 

The  order  to  McDowell  with  the  promise  of 
reinforcements  was  sent  out  in  time  to  catch 
him  before  he  left  Tillman,  and  then  McNally 
turned  his  attention  to  massing  his  reserve.  At 
the  end  of  an  hour  and  a  half  of  hard  work  he 
saw  the  last  files  of  the  rear  guard  march  down 
the  platform  and  into  the  train.  His  frown  ex- 
pressed dissatisfaction,  for  these  men  were  not 
so  good  fighting  material  as  those  McDowell 
had  captained.  Their  manner  was  sheepish ; 
they  did  not  finger  lovingly  the  clubs  they  had 
been  provided  with,  and  altogether  they  seemed 
to  feel  a  much  greater  respect  for  law  and  order 
than  was  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

They  were  the  best  men  available,  however, 


McNally  s  Expedient  221 

and  there  were  several  hundred  of  them,  and 
McNally  was  about  to  give  the  order  which 
would  send  them  up  the  road  to  the  succor  of 
McDowell,  when  Porter  came  hurrying  toward 
him  from  the  telegraph  office. 

"Don't  send  those  men  out  yet,  McNally," 
he  said.  "  There's  something  wrong  here.  I 
think  they've  bagged  McDowell." 

The  train  despatcher  came  into  the  waiting 
room,  and  seeing  them  walked  rapidly  toward 
them. 

"  Something  has  gone  wrong,  gentlemen. 
We've  been  talking  to  Gilsonville  and  he's  all 
balled  up.  He  isn't  the  same  man  who  was 
there  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

"  They've  got  past  McDowell  then,"  said 
McNally.  "  And  they  couldn't  have  done  that 
without  catching  him.  We'd  better  get  that  train 
away  as  fast  as  possible  then,  hadn't  we  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Porter.  "Have 
them  ready  to  start  at  a  minute's  notice,  and 
we'll  plan  out  what's  the  best  thing  to  do." 

Back  in  the  little  office  again  Porter  ex- 
plained his  plan.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  these 
fellows  are  not  likely  to  be  very  much  in  a 
fight.  We  don't  know  how  many  men  Weeks 


222  The  Short  Line   War 

has  got,  but  the  farther  down  the  line  he  comes 
the  weaker  he'll  be.  If  we  let  him  come  far 
enough  we  can  do  the  same  trick  to  him  that  he 
must  have  done  to  McDowell ;  but  if  we  meet 
him  halfway,  he  may  beat  us.  That  leaves  us 
at  his  mercy." 

"Do  you  think  Weeks  is  on  the  train  him- 
self ? "  asked  McNally. 

"  Can't  tell.  It  would  be  like  him.  If  he 
isn't,  that  young  West  is.  Most  likely  West 
is,  anyway.'1 

"  He's  the  man  that  blocks  our  game,  if  he  is 
a  fool.  If  anything  should  happen  to  him,  there 
wouldn't  be  any  question  as  to  who  was  re- 
ceiver of  the  road." 

Porter  said  nothing  and  there  was  a  long 
silence.  Then  McNally  went  on,  speaking 
slowly  and  guardedly  :  — 

"If  there  is  anything  of  a  mix-up  such  a 
thing  would  be  likely  enough  to  happen.  He's 
young  enough  and  cocky  enough  to  get  hurt 
quite  naturally." 

Then  Porter  spoke  quickly,  for  he  read  the 
unsaid  meaning  in  the  words.  "  That's  going 
too  far.  I  want  the  road,  but  not  that  way." 

McNally's  drooping  lids  quivered,  but  other- 


McNallys  Expedient  223 

wise  his  face  was  expressionless.  He  made  no 
pretence  that  Porter  had  misunderstood  him. 
He  spoke  as  though  unheeding  the  interrup- 
tion. 

"  If  we  bring  about  his  disappearance  for  a 
day  or  two,  —  it  needn't  hurt  him  any,  —  we'll 
control  the  road,  fight  or  no  fight." 

He  had  meant  to  say  something  more,  but 
he  stopped,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  opening  door. 
Following  his  gaze  Porter  turned. 

"  Katherine  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

With  automatic  courtesy,  McNally  rose  and 
drew  up  a  chair  for  her,  but  Katherine  did  not 
take  it.  She  had  worn  a  high-collared  black 
velvet  cloak  over  her  house  dress,  and  she  drew 
it  off  and  threw  it  over  the  desk.  Then  coming 
up  behind  her  father  she  touched  his  forehead 
lightly  with  her  cool  hands. 

"  Keeping  everlastingly  at  it,"  she  said,  try- 
ing to  speak  lightly,  "  without  any  dinner  or 
anything.  Is  business  getting  so  very,  very 
serious  ? " 

The  tenderness  of  it  touched  Porter,  and 
though  he  felt  that  she  should  not  be  there  he 
could  not  send  her  away. 

"We're  right  in  the  thick  of  it  now,"  he  said. 


224  The  Short  Line  War 

"  It  will  all  be  over  one  way  or  the  other  in  a 
day  or  two." 

"And  then,"  said  Katherine,  with  a  little 
laugh,  "and  then  I'll  have  somebody  to  play 
with  again." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  him,  and  then  notic- 
ing that  McNally  was  still  standing  she  ad- 
dressed him  for  the  first  time. 

"  Please  don't  wait  for  me  to  sit  down.  I'm 
going  to  stay  right  here." 

Porter  yielded  to  the  restfulness  of  having 
her  there  and  sat  with  closed  eyes,  while  she 
stroked  the  trembling  lids  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers.  Neither  of  the  men  spoke,  and  at  last 
Katherine  broke  the  silence. 

"Don't  you  think,"  she  said  to  her  father, 
"that  everything  would  go  just  as  well  if  you 
came  home  with  me  now  and  took  a  little  rest  ? 
You'll  feel  lots  better  to-morrow,  if  you  do, 
and  there's  a  to-morrow  coming,  you  know,  It 
isn't  likely  that  anything  more  will  happen  to- 
night, is  it  ? " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is,"  said  McNally.  "You  see 
we  think  Weeks  is  coming  down  the  line  now, 
with  a  trainf ul  of  armed  men,  and  he  may  force 
us  into  a  fight  before  morning." 


McNally  s  Expedient  225 

"I  see,"  said  Katherine.  "That  is,  when  his 
army  meets  the  one  you  sent  up  the  line  this 
afternoon." 

Porter  moved  his  head  free  from  her  hands 
and  asked  sharply,  — 

"What  do  you  know  about  that,  dear?" 

"Just  what  Senator  Jones  told  me,"  she 
answered.  "  He  got  off  the  train  at  Sawyer- 
ville  and  drove  over  to  the  Club  to  tele- 
phone." 

"  Do  you  know  which  Senator  Jones  it  was  ? " 
asked  McNally.  "Was  it  the  one  they  call 
'Sporty '?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Katherine;  "I'm  very  sure 
it  was  that  one." 

McNally  turned  quickly  to  Porter.  "  He's 
got  it  in  for  your  people,  hasn't  he?" 

"Yes,"  the  other  answered  ;  "but  he  can't  do 
much  harm.  Nobody  pays  any  attention  to 
him.  Do  you  know,  Katherine,  whether  his 
telephoning  had  anything  to  do  with  us  ? " 

"I'll  tell  you  everything  I  know  about  it," 
she  said,  and  she  recounted  what  she  knew  of 
the  doings  of  the  Senator  on  that  afternoon. 

"Is  that  bad  news?"  she  asked,  when   she 
had  finished. 
Q 


226  The  Short  Line  War 

"  We  can  hardly  tell  till  we  see  what  happens 
next,"  said  McNally. 

Katherine  seated  herself  in  the  chair  McNally 
had  placed  for  her,  and  listened  while  her  father 
and  McNally  talked  over  their  plans  and  specu- 
lated upon  the  probable  import  of  the  messages 
which  kept  coming  in.  There  was  no  attempt 
to  keep  Katherine  in  the  dark  as  to  what  their 
plans  were,  and  for  the  time  she  had  given  up 
looking  at  the  perplexing  aspects  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  was  enjoying  the  action  and  excite- 
ment of  it.  But  as  the  clock  ticked  off  one 
hour  and  then  another,  she  noted  her  father's 
increasing  weariness,  and  she  determined  to 
make  another  attempt  to  get  him  home,  where 
he  could,  at  least,  have  a  few  hours'  rest. 

She  rose,  and  walking  around  behind  him,  as 
she  had  done  before,  she  clasped  her  hands 
over  his  eyes,  and  said :  — 

"  You're  completely  worn  out,  dad.  Please 
come  home.  I  don't  believe  anything  is  going 
to  happen  after  all." 

Porter  sighed  wearily;  but  he  said,  "My 
dear,  if  Jim  Weeks  is  coming  down  the  line, 
something  is  sure  to  happen." 

"Do  you  think  he's  on  the  train  himself?" 
she  asked. 


McNally  s  Expedient  227 

McNally  looked  up  quickly.  It  was  not  the 
question,  but  something  that  the  question  sug- 
gested to  him,  that  made  him  say :  — 

"  Probably  not.  We  think  young  West  is  in 
charge  of  the  gang.'* 

Katherine's  hands  were  still  clasped  over  her 
father's  eyes,  and  McNally  took  the  opportunity 
this  afforded  him  to  accompany  his  words  with 
a  meaning  look  that  was  insolent  in  its  intent- 
ness.  In  spite  of  herself  Katherine  felt  the 
blood  mounting  into  her  cheeks  and  forehead, 
and  McNally,  seeing  the  blush,  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  his  smile.  Katherine  did  not  flinch  from 
his  gaze,  but  returned  it  squarely.  Dropping 
her  hands  to  her  father's  shoulders,  she  said 
steadily :  — 

"  I  suppose  he  is  on  the  train.  He  likes  that 
sort  of  thing.  Of  course  Mr.  McNally  will  lead 
our  forlorn  hope  when  it  starts  out/' 

She  smiled  as  she  said  it,  for  he  winced 
under  the  thrust. 

He  rose  hurriedly,  and  as  he  moved  toward 
the  door  he  spoke  to  Porter. 

"I've  got  some  business  to  attend  to  with 
Wilkins.  I'll  be  back  soon." 

When  he  had  left  the  room  Porter  turned  to 
Katherine. 


228  The  Short  Line  War 

"You'd  better  go   home  now.     I   can't  go 

until  we   know  what  is  going  on  out  on  the 

road.     I'll  come  as  soon  as  I  can,  but  you  must 

go  now." 

He   had   spoken  gently,  but  with  a  finality 

that  left  Katherine  no  hope  of  persuading  him. 

He  took  up  her  cloak  and  threw  it  over  her 

shoulders,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Good  night.     I'll  come  along  by  and  by." 
"  If  you  don't,  I'll  come  back  after  you." 
Without  waiting  to  hear  her  father's,  dissent, 

which  she  knew  would  follow  this  declaration, 

she  fled  from  the  room  and  down  the  steps  to 

her  carriage. 

As  she  settled  herself  among  the  robes  and 

cushions  she  heard  McNally's  voice  :  — 
"  Can  you  find  the  right  men  to  do  it  ? " 
The  door  slammed  and  the  carriage  clattered 

away  with  Katherine  wondering  what  "it"  was. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   THE   DARK 

AFTER  leaving  Brushingham,  Harvey  and 
his  crew  merely  duplicated  the  enemy's  per- 
formance of  the  afternoon.  The  C.  &  S.  C. 
employees  were  thrown  out  before  they  had 
become  thoroughly  settled,  and  with  each  new 
capture  messages  flew  back  to  Mattison  at 
Manchester,  giving  him  and  Jim  Weeks  a 
detailed  account  of  the  progress  of  the  train. 
The  greatest  care  was  exercised  to  keep  news 
of  the  train  from  Truesdale.  Wherever  there 
was  a  possibility  of  the  ejected  men  reaching  a 
telephone,  they  were  actually  taken  in  custody 
and  placed  under  guard.  The  operators  were 
instructed  to  answer  all  messages  from  the 
Truesdale  despatcher  as  intelligently  as  possible, 
in  order  to  continue  the  deception. 

It  was  a  long,  hard  ride.  Harvey  was  called 
upon  constantly  to  exercise  ingenuity  in  the 
handling  of  his  forces,  and  though  Mallory  was 
229 


230  The  Short  Line  War 

of  great  assistance,  the  strain  of  responsibility 
rested  upon  Harvey.  He  was  tired  when  he 
started,  but  as  the  night  wore  on  toward  morn- 
ing, nothing  but  his  sound  nerves  kept  him 
on  his  feet.  At  two-thirty  o'clock  they  were 
within  twenty  miles  of  Truesdale,  and  Harvey 
and  Mallory  were  both  in  the  engine,  anx- 
iously looking  for  obstructions.  From  Matti- 
son's  despatches  they  knew  that  reinforcements 
were  flying  down  over  an  open  road,  but  the 
collecting  of  a  second  force  had  taken  time,  and 
it  was  nearly  midnight  before  the  second  train 
was  on  its  way,  a  hundred  and  sixty-five  miles 
from  Harvey's  present  location. 

Nearly  all  Harvey's  men  had  been  dropped 
along  the  line,  and  he  was  in  no  position  for 
a  conflict,  particularly  as  he  had  no  knowl- 
edge of  the  enemy's  location  or  preparedness. 
Mallory  was  for  pausing  until  the  other  train 
should  reach  them,  probably  about  daylight. 
He  argued  that  they  had  nothing  to  gain 
and  everything  to  lose.  Harvey,  undecided, 
referred  to  his  map,  spreading  it  out  on  the 
fireman's  bench  while  Mallory  lighted  matches 
and  held  them  over  the  paper.  Harvey  ran  his 
finger  down  the  line  to  Sawyerville. 


In  the  Dark  231 

"  Just  north  of  the  Sawyerville  station,"  he 
said,  "there  is  a  curve  and  a  deep  cut.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  if  they  try  to  block  the 
road  they'll  do  it  there.  The  quarries  are  right 
at  hand,  and  all  they  need  to  do  is  to  roll  a  few 
rocks  down." 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  try  that  ? "  asked 
Mallory.  "  It  would  block  them  worse  than  it 
would  us." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  I'll  feel  a  lot 
easier  when  we're  through  that  cut  with  open 
country  between  us  and  Truesdale.  Run  slow, 
Donohue,  and  put  out  your  headlight.  Mal- 
lory, you  see  that  the  train  is  perfectly  dark. 
We  might  as  well  try  a  little  bluffing  even  if  we 
do  strike  them.  They  won't  know  but  what 
we've  got  five  hundred  men  aboard,  and  the 
others  will  reach  us  before  they  find  it  out." 

Mallory  clambered  over  the  coal  in  the  ten- 
der, while  the  fireman  crawled  out  on  the  run- 
ning board  and  extinguished  the  headlight. 
The  night  was  very  dark,  and  Jawn  leaned  out 
of  the  cab  window,  his  left  hand  gripping  the 
throttle  lever.  The  fireman  was  badly  in  need 
of  sleep,  and  showed  a  tendency  to  grumble  in 
a  half-incoherent  way,  but  Jawn  was  as  silent 


232  The  Short  Line  War 

as  at  the  start.  To  Harvey,  who  even  in  the 
excitement  was  afraid  to  sit  down  for  fear  of 
falling  asleep,  the  engineer  was  a  marvel  in  his 
machine-like  self-control. 

Slowly  the  line  of  empty  cars  rolled  along. 
Jawn's  eyes  were  glued  to  the  track  in  front, 
which  to  Harvey  seemed  a  constantly  resolving 
confusion  of  shadows.  The  tall  gray  telegraph 
poles  crept  by  with  monotonous  regularity  until 
Harvey  turned  away  and  looked  out  at  the  dim 
meadows  on  the  left,  over  which  was  spread  a 
ghostly  film  of  mist. 

"There's  the  cut/1  said  Jawn. 

Harvey  looked  forward,  but  could  see  noth- 
ing. Jawn,  however,  gradually  slackened  speed 
until  they  were  barely  moving.  Mallory  ap- 
peared on  the  tender  and  came  over  the  coal 
to  the  apron,  where  he  stood  leaning  out  with 
one  arm  around  the  cab  door-post.  The  fire- 
man heaped  a  shovel  with  coal,  and  staggering 
wearily  into  the  cab  he  knocked  open  the  door 
of  the  fire-box  from  which  a  dull  glow  tem- 
pered the  darkness.  Harvey  seated  himself  on 
the  fireman's  seat,  holding  himself  stiffly  erect 
and  trying  to  distinguish  the  track  before. 
Jawn  slowly  brought  the  train  to  a  stop. 


In  the  Dark  233 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Harvey.  "See  any- 
thing ahead  ? " 

"  No.  We're  about  two  hundred  yards  from 
the  curve." 

Harvey  turned  to  Mallory. 

"We'd  better  throw  out  a  few  men  ahead, 
Mallory,  to  see  that  the  track  is  clear." 

"  Haven't  got  many  left,  not  more  than  half 
a  dozen  altogether." 

Harvey  stepped  down  and  stretched  his  tired 
limbs. 

"  I'll  go  myself,"  he  said.  "  Call  one  of  your 
men  up  here." 

Mallory  climbed  back  on  the  tender  and 
whistled.  A  man  who  had  been  sitting  on  the 
steps  of  the  first  car  came  forward. 

"You  wait  here,  Donohue,"  said  Harvey. 
"  If  everything  is  all  right,  I'll  come  back." 
He  struck  a  match  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
"We've  been  taking  time  enough.  It's  three- 
fifteen  now.  I'll  walk  along  the  top  of  the  cut 
on  the  left-hand  side,  and  you  "  —  to  the  detec- 
tive —  "  you  take  the  other  side.  Keep  within 
easy  hail — "  He  paused  abruptly.  Through 
the  crisp  night  air  came  the  roll  and  snort  of  an 
engine.  There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  cab. 


234  The  Short  Line  War 

"  She's  running  slow,"  said  Jawn,  at  length. 

Harvey  stood  breaking  the  match  into  bits. 
The  noise  of  the  other  train  came  slowly  nearer, 
but  so  slowly  that  all  listened  breathlessly. 
After  a  little  they  could  hear  the  rumbling  of  an 
exhaust,  and  Jawn  muttered,  "  She's  stopped." 

"We'd  better  wait,"  said  Mallory.  "It's 
more  than  likely  that  they  have  another  gang 
ready  for  us.  They  probably  will  be  coming 
this  way  before  long." 

Harvey  stepped  up  to  the  fireman's  seat  again, 
and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  black  cut  ahead.  It 
was  still  dark,  but  he  could  now  distinguish  the 
deep  shadow  which  marked  the  spot  where 
the  track  bent  sharply  to  the  left  between  its 
rock  walls.  For  some  time  all  were  silent,  lis- 
tening to  the  noise  of  the  other  engine.  Jawn 
sat  on  his  bench,  which  he  had  not  left  for 
hours,  ready  either  for  going  ahead  or  for  back- 
ing, as  the  circumstances  should  dictate.  Mallory 
moved  to  the  step  and  swung  out  as  before,  watch- 
ing and  listening.  The  fireman  swung  his  arms 
and  shifted  his  feet  in  an  effort  to  keep  awake. 

Occasionally  they  could  hear  men  shouting, 
then  there  would  be  no  sound  save  the  subdued 
hiss  of  steam.  After  a  long  wait  a  bell  rang, 


In  the  Dark  235 

and  J  awn's  grasp  tightened,  but  the  other  engine 
gave  only  a  few  coughs  and  stopped  again.  The 
ensuing  silence  was  broken  by  Harvey  stepping 
to  the  tender  and  beckoning  to  the  detective, 
who  had  been  sitting  on  the  coalj 

"All  right/'  said  Harvey.  "We'll  go  ahead 
and  see  what  they're  up  to.  You  take  the  right 
bank,  and  keep  close  to  the  edge  where  I  can 
talk  to  you  if  necessary."  He  swung  out  of  the 
cab  and  began  laboriously  to  climb  up  the 
seamed  sloping  rock,  which  reached  a  man's 
height  above  the  cab  roof. 

Excepting  the  occasional  cracks  and  jagged 
projections  there  was  no  foothold,  and  it  was  at 
the  expense  of  cut  and  scraped  hands  that  he 
scrambled  up  the  soft  limestone  and  reached 
the  top.  He  sat  for  a  moment  on  the  ground  to 
recover  his  breath  and  to  pull  himself  together. 
The  detective  was  standing  on  the  opposite  bank 
and  Harvey  rose  and  stumbled  forward.  They 
crept  along,  climbing  fences  and  tripping 
through  underbrush.  As  they  rounded  the 
curve  the  ground  began  to  slope  away,  and  soon 
they  could  see  the  headlight  of  an  engine.  Be- 
hind it,  at  the  Sawyerville  platform,  stretched  a 
train  of  lighted  cars. 


236  The  Short  Line   War 

Harvey  and  the  detective  had  been  talking 
across  the  cut,  but  now  for  the  sake  of  caution 
they  went  on  in  silence.  Harvey  slipped  around 
a  farmyard  that  backed  up  to  the  track,  and 
struck  into  the  woods  that  lie  north  of  Sawyer- 
ville  almost  up  to  the  station  and  its  lonely 
cluster  of  houses.  Stepping  quietly  along  a 
bridle  path  he  soon  came  within  earshot  of  the 
station. 

Little  knots  of  men  stood  on  the  platform 
talking  excitedly.  The  new  station  agent  and 
operator  was  running  about  in  his  shirt  sleeves 
with  his  hand  full  of  papers.  Within  the  cars 
were  crowds  of  men ;  Harvey  estimated  that 
there  were  several  hundred.  Standing  near  the 
engine,  the  centre  of  a  small  group,  was  a  large 
man  whom  Harvey  thought  was  McNally,  but 
he  could  not  be  certain  at  that  distance  and  in 
the  uncertain  light  of  flickering  station  lamps. 

Harvey's  sporting  blood  was  up,  and  with 
entire  forgetfulness  of  his  exhaustion  he  crept 
slowly  forward,  worming  through  the  brush  and 
long  grass  behind  a  snake  fence.  Slowly  he 
progressed  until  only  a  muddy  road  intervened 
between  him  and  the  north  end  of  the  platform. 
Taking  advantage  of  a  noisy  blow-off  from  the 


In  the  Dark  237 

engine,  he  piled  some  brush  up  in  front  of  him 
and  stretched  out  at  full  length  with  his  chin  on 
his  arm,  viewing  the  scene  through  the  open- 
ing between  the  two  lowest  rails  of  the  fence. 
Now  he  could  easily  recognize  McNally,  and 
without  being  able  to  distinguish  words  could 
even  hear  him  talking.  Suddenly  McNally 
stepped  out  from  the  group  and  called  down  the 
platform,  — 

"  Blake,  are  Wilkins  and  the  boys  back  yet  ? " 

The  reply  was  lost  to  Harvey,  but  McNally 
shouted,  — 

"  If  they  aren't  here  in  five  minutes,  go 
ahead." 

That  told  Harvey  just  what  he  wanted  to 
know,  and  slowly  turning  he  began  crawling 
back.  But  before  he  had  gone  very  far,  he 
heard  a  sound  which  suggested  possibilities.  It 
was  the  wheezing  of  his  own  engine  at  the 
other  end  of  the  curve.  Now  that  he  stopped 
to  think,  he  realized  that  it  must  have  been  per- 
fectly audible  to  McNally's  party.  From  this 
it  was  naturally  to  be  inferred  that  "  the  boys  " 
had  been  sent  out  on  a  mission  similar  to  his 
own.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  and  they 
might  have  passed,  and  that  the  repassing  might 


238  The  Short  Line  War 

not  so  easily  be  accomplished.  He  increased 
his  efforts  and  soon  was  deep  enough  in  the 
woods  to  get  to  his  feet  and  run.  When  he 
drew  near  the  farmhouse  he  took  a  detour  and 
passed  it  with  fifty  yards  to  spare.  He  could 
not  afford  to  rouse  any  dogs.  He  was  getting 
into  the  open  when  three  or  four  men  appeared 
directly  in  front  of  him,  walking  slowly  from  a 
strip  of  woods  toward  the  track.  Harvey  dug 
his  heel  into  the  ground  and  dodged  back,  but 
the  men  saw  him  and  without  a  word  started  in 
pursuit. 

The  chase  was  not  a  long  one.  Harvey  was 
completely  hemmed  in,  and  exhausted  as  he 
was  and  spent  with  running,  he  was  soon  over- 
hauled. He  tried  to  call  out,  but  one  of  the 
men  gripped  his  mouth. 

Mallory,  as  soon  as  Harvey  was  out  of  sight, 
settled  down  to  await  his  return  with  more  or 
less  impatience.  The  fireman  leaned  against 
the  forward  end  of  the  tender  and  promptly  fell 
asleep,  but  Jawn  waked  him  with  a  growl, 
whereupon  the  exhausted  man  stood  erect, 
struggling  to  bring  his  rebellious  nerves  under 
control.  As  the  minutes  slipped  by  Jawn's 


In  the  Dark  239 

eyes  shifted  from  track  to  bank  and  back  to 
the  cut  again.  The  clouds  that  lingered  from 
the  afternoon  rain  hid  every  star  save  one 
near  the  horizon,  which  struggled  to  announce 
the  coming  dawn. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  fifteen.  Then  came 
the  warning  bell  of  the  other  locomotive,  fol- 
lowed by  a  quick  succession  of  puffs  as  the  big 
drivers  gripped  the  rails.  Jawn  leaned  far  out 
the  window  and  scanned  the  banks  of  the  cut. 
No  one  was  in  sight.  He  ducked  in  and  seized 
the  throttle  lever. 

"  Hold  on/'  said  Mallory.  "  Are  they  coming 
this  way  ? " 

"  Yes." 

Mallory  seized  his  arm. 

"  Back  up,  then.     We  can't  meet  them." 

Jawn  jerked  his  elbow  from  Mallory's  grasp 
and  opened  the  throttle. 

"  Are  you  crazy,  man ! "  Mallory  shouted. 
"Stop  her!  You'll  kill  us!" 

Jawn  opened  her  a  little  wider.  For  an  in- 
stant Mallory  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  then  he 
sprang  forward  and  jammed  the  lever  close  to 
the  boiler. 

"  Reverse ! "  he  ordered. 


240  The  Short  Line   War 

For  reply  Jawn  turned  on  Mallory  and  crowded 
him  back.  Weak-nerved  from  the  long  strain, 
suffering  for  lack  of  sleep,  the  two  men  broke 
down  for  the  moment,  and  struggled  about  the 
cab.  The  fireman  stumbled  back  against  the 
boiler  with  a  dazed  face,  but  after  a  moment  he 
recovered  and  rushed  between  the  two  men. 

"  This  ain't  right !  "  he  screamed.  "  If  you 
two  fight,  we're  ditched." 

As  he  spoke,  the  detective  who  had  gone  with 
Harvey  came  slipping  and  tumbling  down  the 
cut,  and  clambered  aboard  the  engine.  Jawn 
and  Mallory  fell  back  against  the  opposite 
benches  and  glared  at  each  other.  Jawn  sud- 
denly reached  for  the  throttle. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  gasped  Mallory;  "she's 
stopped." 

Half  reluctantly  Jawn  listened.  Sure  enough, 
the  other  train  had  paused,  evidently  just  around 
the  curve. 

"  The  man's  right,"  Mallory  went  on.  "  We 
haven't  got  any  business  scrapping ;  we've  got 
to  pull  together.  Now  tell  me  what  you  were 
trying  to  do." 

Jawn  looked  out  ahead  before  he  replied,  — 

"  I  ain't  going  to  leave  Mr.  West  down  there." 


In  the  Dark  241 

"  Isn't  Mr.  West  back  ? "  asked  the  detective, 
in  a  startled  tone.  "  He's  had  time  enough  to 
go  clear  to  the  station  and  back.  I  went  pretty 
near  to  it  myself.  They've  got  a  train  full  of 
men.  It  looks  like  business." 

"  Hear  that,  Donohue?"  saidMallory.  "What 
do  you  think  we  can  do  against  a  gang  like  that? " 

"  That  don't  make  no  difference.  Mr.  Matti- 
son  says,  '  Hold  the  line  if  you  lose  an  engine 
doing  it,'  and  I'm  going  to  hold  it." 

"  But  stop  to  think,  man.  There  isn't  a 
possible  chance  of  holding  it.  We'll  do  more 
good  by  dodging  back  and  keeping  them  guess- 
ing until  the  relief  comes.  As  it  stands  now  we 
are  perfectly  helpless." 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  Jawn.  "  You  go  back 
and  fetch  every  man  you  got." 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ? " 

"  No  difference  what  I'm  up  to.  You  fetch 
your  men." 

Mallory  looked  sharply  at  Jawn,  then  he  mo- 
tioned to  the  detective,  who  dropped  to  the 
ground  and  hurried  back. 

"What's  your  plan?"  Mallory  asked  again. 
But  Jawn  shook  his  head  and  watched  the  cut. 

In  a  moment  the  detective  reappeared  fol- 


242  The  Short  Line  War 

lowed  by  five  others.  All  six  came  crowding 
upon  the  apron.  Without  leaving  his  seat 
Jawn  gave  his  orders, — 

"  Get  on  the  tender,  as  high  up  as  you  can, 
and  when  we  go  at  'em,  yell  like  hell." 

With  startled,  wondering  faces  the  men 
clambered  back,  Mallory  among  them,  taking 
positions  on  the  tank  and  on  what  was  left  of 
the  coal.  From  around  the  curve  another  suc- 
cession of  puffs  drew  J  awn's  eyes  to  the  front, 
and  his  grip  tightened. 

"Hold  on,  back  there,"  he  called,  "and  don't 
yell  till  I  holler.  Fire  up,  Billy." 

Billy  fired  up  and  the  engine  moved  slowly 
forward.  She  crept  cautiously  toward  the 
curve,  foot  by  foot.  On  the  rock  wall  dead 
ahead  a  yellow  light  flashed,  and  then  crept 
around  toward  them.  Jawn  waited  until  it  was 
almost  full  in  his  eyes. 

"Whistle,  Billy,"  he  said. 

The  hoarse  whistle  shrieked,  and  the  other 
engine  seemed  to  start,  then  hesitate. 

"Now,"  said  Jawn,  without  looking  around, 
and  he  let  out  a  tremendous  yell  of  "  At  'em, 
boys ! "  The  men  on  the  tender  promptly  raised 
an  uproar,  the  fireman  shouted  as  he  jerked  the 


In  the  Dark  243 

whistle  cord,  and  Jawn  sat  with  one  eye  on  the 
indicator,  the  other  on  the  approaching  head- 
light, his  bass  voice  all  the  while  roaring  out  a 
fiery  challenge  not  unmixed  with  profanity. 

The  engineer  of  McNally's  special  had 
received  no  orders  to  sacrifice  his  engine, 
and  had  no  desire  to  sacrifice  himself.  He 
wavered,  stopped,  then  tried  to  back.  But 
Jawn  let  out  another  notch,  and  rammed  his 
bull  nose  into  and  through  the  other's  pilot 
with  such  force  that  both  locomotives  left  the 
track. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   COMING   OF    DAWN 

THE  collision  occurred  at  the  southern  end  of 
the  cut.  It  had  for  the  men  in  the  C.  &  S.  C. 
train  the  additional  force  of  unexpectedness.  It 
was  not  violent,  as  railway  collisions  go,  but  the 
shock  of  it  was  enough  to  jerk  the  huddled, 
dozing  men  out  of  their  seats,  and  to  awaken 
them  to  a  full  consciousness  that  something 
had  happened.  In  the  stupefied  hush  which 
followed  the  crash  they  heard  outside  the  train 
a  chorus  of  shoutings,  —  derisive,  blasphemous, 
triumphant.  That  completed  their  momentary 
demoralization ;  a  panic  swept  them  away,  and 
the  frenzied  men  fought  each  other  in  the  effort 
to  reach  the  car  doors. 

But  the  rush  was  checked  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  begun.  The  first  men  to  get  through  the 
doors  had  hardly  leaped  to  the  ground  when 
they  saw  from  the  shadow  of  the  cut  the  vicious 
spit  of  revolvers  and  heard  the  bullets  singing 
244 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  245 

unpleasantly  over  their  heads.  Where  they 
stood  the  gray  dawn  made  them  perfectly 
visible,  but  the  blackness  of  the  cut  screened 
their  assailants  and  made  it  impossible  to  guess 
their  numbers.  About  twenty  men  had  got 
out  of  the  C.  &  S.  C.  train  when  the  volley  was 
fired,  and  the  celerity  with  which  they  scat- 
tered brought  another  cheer  from  Mallory's 
men  intrenched  in  the  cut. 

Some  of  the  fugitives  scurried  to  the  woods, 
while  others  struggled  back  into  the  cars.  The 
shots  had  been  heard  inside  the  cars,  and  the 
rush  to  get  out  of  them  was  succeeded  by 
the  impulse  to  lie  down.  The  men  were  with- 
out leaders,  without  means  of  measuring  the 
peril  they  were  in  or  the  force  of  their  oppo- 
nents, without  knowledge  of  what  was  expected 
of  them ;  and  they  lay  cowering  but  angry  in 
the  barricaded  cars,  awaiting  further  develop- 
ments. 

There  was  no  one  to  tell  them  what  to  do. 
Where  were  their  leaders?  The  murmur  ran 
through  the  line  of  cars  that  McNally  and 
Wilkins  had  deserted  them.  For  neither  of 
them  was  on  the  train  when  the  collision 
occurred. 


246  The  Short  Line   War 

McNally,  standing  on  the  Sawyerville  plat- 
form near  the  rear  end  of  his  train,  had  already 
given  the  signal  to  go  ahead  when  a  man  came 
out  of  the  woods,  hurried  across  the  muddy 
road,  ran  down  the  platform,  and  clutching 
his  arm  said  eagerly:  — 

"Mr.  McNally,  Wilkins  wants  you  to  come 
over  here.  We've  caught  one  of  them  and  he 
says  he  thinks  it's  the  one  you  told  him  about." 

McNally  turned  and  shouted  to  the  engineer, 
"  Hold  on  up  there  a  minute  "  ;  but  the  cry  was 
unheard,  and  the  long  train  continued  slowly 
toward  the  curve.  Smith,  who  had  just  brought 
the  report  to  McNally,  started  up  the  platform 
in  pursuit,  but  McNally  stopped  him. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said.  "They  won't  go 
far.  Now  tell  me  about  this  fellow  you've 
caught.  Where  was  he  ? " 

"Right  over  here  in  the  woods;  it's  only 
a  little  way.  Wilkins  wanted  you  should  come 
over  there." 

"Go  ahead,"  said  McNally.  "Show  me  the 
way." 

The  two  men  crossed  the  road  and  entered 
the  woods  by  the  path.  It  was  still  as  black  as 
midnight  under  the  trees,  and  they  felt  their 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  247 

way  cautiously.  Just  north  of  the  farmhouse 
they  left  the  path  and  stepped  into  the  crack- 
ling underbrush.  They  had  gone  but  a  few 
paces  when  they  were  stopped  by  the  sound 
of  a  low  whistle  close  by  at  their  left. 

"There  they  are/'  said  the  guide. 

McNally  started  to  follow  him,  but  hesitated 
and  then  whispered :  — 

"  I'll  wait  here.  Send  Wilkins  out  to  me, 
will  you  ? " 

When  Wilkins  appeared  McNally  stepped 
back  a  little  and  looked  around  nervously 
before  he  spoke. 

"  Can  they  hear  us  ? " 

Wilkins  shook  his  head. 

"How  much  did  you  tell  that  young  fellow 
of  our  conversation?"  questioned  McNally. 

"  Smith  ?  Nothing  but  just  what  he  told  you. 
I  said  I  thought  he  was  the  man  you  told  me 
about." 

"What  does  he  look  like?" 

"  Big  man  —  straight  dark  hair.  I  took 
these  out  of  his  pockets." 

They  were  a  handful  of  papers,  and  McNally 
took  them  eagerly.  "That's  something  like," 
he  said. 


248  The  Short  Line  War 

It  was  too  dark  to  make  out  anything,  and 
he  struck  a  match.  The  crackle  was  followed 
by  another  sound  from  the  thicket,  as  though 
a  man  had  moved  suddenly  and  violently. 
McNally  started  and  dropped  the  match,  glanc- 
ing suspiciously  toward  the  spot  whence  the 
sound  came. 

"  It's  only  the  boys,"  said  Wilkins.  "  Here, 
I'll  give  you  a  light." 

As  he  sheltered  the  flickering  match-light 
with  his  hands,  McNally  glanced  over  the 
papers.  One  of  them  he  found  by  unfolding 
to  be  a  map  of  the  railroad.  There  were  some 
memoranda,  scrawled  and  unintelligible,  and 
last  of  all,  what  appeared  to  be  a  note  in  a 
crumpled  blue  envelope,  bearing  a  week-old 
postmark.  He  scrutinized  it  closely,  and  then 
rubbed  his  soft  hands  over  it.  There  was  the 
caricature  of  a  smile  on  his  face. 

"That's  all  the  light  I  need.     He's  the  man." 

As  Wilkins  dropped  the  match,  McNally 
turned  a  little  and  slipped  the  blue  note  into 
his  pocket.  Then  he  handed  the  other  papers 
to  Wilkins,  saying :  — 

"  Put  them  back  where  you  found  them. 
We  don't  want  to  rob  him." 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  249 

In  a  moment,  with  lowered  voice  he  went 
on:  — 

"  I  don't  think  it's  necessary  for  me  to  give 
any  further  instructions.  When  you  go  back 
there  just  tell  those  men  what  we  want.  It's 
necessary  that  West  shall  be  out  of  the  game 
for  the  next  day  or  two,  that's  all.  I'll  walk 
along  toward  the  train,  and  when  you  get 
through  with  them  follow  me  down  the  track. 
What  force  have  they  on  the  other  train  ? " 

"  Not  more  than  twenty  men." 

"That  simplifies— " 

As  he  started  to  speak  there  came  to  his  ears 
a  splintering  crash  followed  by  a  quick  succes- 
sion of  shots. 

McNally  smiled.  "The  boys  are  rushing 
things,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  they  aren't  doing 
anything  rash.  I'll  hurry  along  and  pacify  'em. 
Follow  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  will  you  ? " 

He  turned  to  go,  but  Wilkins  waited. 

"Mr.  McNally,"  he  said,  "I  guess  you'd 
better  attend  to  that  West  business  yourself. 
I'll  send  one  of  those  men  to  you,  and  take 
Smith  down  to  the  train  with  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  guess  you  can  see  what  I  mean  all  right," 


250  The  Short  Line  War 

said  Wilkins.  "  I'd  rather  let  you  be  respon- 
sible for  any  kidnapping." 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  but  hurried  into 
the  thicket,  and  nodding  to  one  of  the  men  who 
still  held  Harvey  he  said  in  a  low  tone :  — 

"You're  wanted  out  there.  Your  partners 
can  hold  this  chap  all  right."  Then  with 
a  gesture  motioning  Smith  to  follow,  he  felt 
his  way  through  the  woods  and  down  the  side 
of  the  cut  to  the  track. 

Once  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  trees  he  could 
see  plainly  enough,  for  dawn  was  breaking 
fast.  The  rear  end  of  his  train  was  in  sight, 
about  a  hundred  yards  up  the  track ;  the  head 
of  it  was  hidden  by  the  curve.  From  the  cut 
he  could  hear  derisive  shouts  and  cat-calls, 
but  from  his  own  train  not  a  sound.  Puzzled 
and  a  little  alarmed,  he  broke  into  a  run.  He 
passed  the  rear  cars  and  came  around  the  curve 
in  sight  of  the  men  in  the  cut. 

"Get  back  there,  you  damned  robber!" 
shouted  one  of  them,  and  the  command  was 
followed  by  a  shot. 

The  bullet  went  high  over  Wilkins's  head,  but 
it  had  its  effect  none  the  less.  He  sprang  up 
the  steps  of  the  nearest  car  and  threw  himself 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  251 

against  the  door.  It  resisted  his  efforts,  how- 
ever, and  from  inside  the  car  came  another 
warning,  for  a  gruff  voice  said:  — 

"  Quit  that,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  blown  full 
of  holes." 

Wilkins  stepped  out  of  line  of  the  door  before 
he  answered :  — 

"  Let  me  in,  you  fool.     It's  me,  Wilkins." 

The  door  opened  slowly  and  he  looked  into 
the  barrel  of  a  levelled  revolver,  which  was 
lowered  when  he  was  recognized.  He  looked 
about  the  crowded  car  in  increasing  amazement, 
the  men  shifting  sullenly  under  his  glance.  At 
last  he  said :  — 

"What  in  hell  are  you  men  doing  here? 
Scared  to  death,  too;  and  by  half  a  dozen 
men !  Stand  up  now,  and  go  out  there  and  tie 
'em  up.  It  won't  take  you  but  a  minute." 

There  was  an  inarticulate  growl  of  protest,  and 
the  man  who  had  been  guarding  the  door  spoke  : 

"They've  got  us  in  a  hole.  We  started  to 
get  off  the  train  and  they  shot  at  us  from  the 
cut.  They  can  pick  us  off  like  rabbits." 

Wilkins  hesitated.  He  did  not  know  whether 
or  not  the  men  in  the  cut  would  shoot  to  kill, 
but  he  saw  that  their  position  gave  them  a  tre* 


252  The  Short  Line  War 

mendous  advantage  in  the  first  rush.  He  did 
not  care  to  face  the  responsibility  of  ordering  a 
charge  that  would  prove  too  costly.  After  a 
moment  he  said  :  — 

"It'll  be  all  right  if  you  all  do  it  together. 
One  of  you  speak  to  the  men  in  the  forward 
cars  and  I'll  go  back  and  do  the  same  thing. 
Then  when  we  give  the  signal  make  a  rush." 

Wilkins  went  through  toward  the  rear  of  the 
train,  as  he  had  said,  but  his  object  was  to 
gain  time  and  to  wait  for  McNally.  Then  the 
responsibility  could  be  shifted  to  where  it  be- 
longed. When  he  reached  the  rear  platform 
he  saw  McNally  coming  up  the  track.  He 
hurried  to  meet  him,  and  in  a  few  words  laid 
the  situation  before  him. 

McNally's  upper  lip  drew  away  from  his 
teeth  as  he  heard  it,  but  he  spoke  quietly. 

"  They've  got  us  bluffed  down,  haven't  they  ? 
But  I  guess  it's  about  time  we  called  them. 
'  They'll  be  pretty  careful  not  to  hit  anybody 
with  those  guns  of  theirs.  Have  the  men  come 
through  to  the  rear  of  the  train  and  get  off  from 
this  platform  where  they'll  be  screened  by  the 
curve.  Then  they  can  spread  out  through  the 
woods  and  come  down  on  'em  from  the  sides  of 
the  cut." 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  253 

Of  course  the  odds  were  overwhelming ;  they 
were  greater  even  than  the  numerical  disparity 
would  indicate,  for  the  men  in  the  cut  were 
utterly  exhausted.  They  had  staked  every- 
thing on  their  bluff  and  had  been  sustained  for 
a  time  by  seeing  that  it  was  succeeding.  But 
at  last  Jawn,  standing  in  the  cab  of  his  derailed 
locomotive,  saw  something  that  made  him  call 
quickly  to  Mallory. 

"They've  started/'  he  said. 

"Where  are  they  ?" 

"  Comin'  up  through  the  woods." 

Mallory  glanced  quickly  about  and  said, 
"We're  flanked.  There's  no  good  in  staying 
here,  is  there  ?  " 

"  The  baggage  car'll  hold  together  for  a  while, 
and  the  other  train  ought  to  be  here  now." 

"Well,"  said  Mallory,  "we'll  try  it.  Come 
on,  boys,  get  to  cover." 

The  men  climbed  into  the  car,  and  Jawn  and 
Mallory  were  discussing  methods  for  defending 
it,  when  the  fireman  thought  of  something. 

"  How  about  Bill  Jones  ? "  he  asked.  "  He's 
back  with  the  flag.  Ain't  he  liable  to  get  snapped 
up  ? " 

"  He'll  have  to  take  his  chances,"  said  Mallory. 


254  The  Short  Line  War 

"  Hold  on,  though.  It  won't  do  for  them  to  find 
him/' 

He  glanced  out  of  the  window  and  then  ran 
out  on  the  platform. 

"  There's  time  enough,  I  guess,"  he  muttered, 
turning  and  speaking  into  the  car.  "  I'm  goin' 
back  with  him." 

He  disappeared,  and  Jawn  quietly  assumed 
command  of  the  defences.  "Don't  do  any 
shooting,"  he  said.  "  It  won't  help  any  in  this 
mix-up.  These  are  good  to  hit  with,"  and  he 
showed  a  coupling  pin  he  held  in  his  hand. 

When  the  preparations  were  made  for  the 
defence,  and  all  the  bulky  articles  in  the  car 
had  been  placed  where  they  would  be  most  in 
the  way  of  an  attacking  party,  the  men  waited. 
They  were  stupid  with  fatigue,  and  even  the 
prospect  of  an  immediate  attack  failed  to  arouse 
them ;  but  they  were  still  game,  and  though  they 
lay  about  the  floor  in  attitudes  of  utter  exhaus- 
tion their  sullen  determination  to  hold  the  car 
was  unmistakable. 

At  last  a  shower  of  stones  came  rattling  about 
the  car,  and  they  heard  the  shouts  of  two  hun- 
dred men  who  came  charging  down  the  banks 
into  the  cut.  Jawn  and  his  men  breathed  more 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  255 

freely  now  that  the  waiting  was  over,  and  drew 
themselves  up  with  a  spark  of  their  old  alertness. 
One  man  began  singing,  drumming  on  the  car 
floor  with  a  stick,  — 

"There'll  be  a  hot  time  —  " 

and  another,  springing  to  his  feet,  took  to  bal- 
ancing his  loaded  club,  shifting  it  from  finger  to 
finger,  and  then  catching  it  in  his  hand  he  struck 
quick  and  hard  through  the  air  to  see  where  the 
grip  was  best. 

Then  they  heard  the  sound  of  feet  on  the 
north  platform,  and  some  one  tried  the  door. 
"Guess  they're  in  here,"  they  heard  him  say. 

"Guess  you'll  find  that  you're  dead  right 
about  that,"  observed  the  man  who  had  been 
singing. 

Jawn  said  no  word,  but  waited  with  blazing 
eyes  beside  the  door.  He  meant  to  strike  the 
first  blow  with  his  coupling  pin.  There  were 
two  ineffectual  thuds  against  the  door  and  then 
a  crash.  The  hinges  started  and  one  panel 
splintered  inward.  Another,  and  this  time  the 
door  fell  and  a  giant  of  a  man,  jerked  off  his 
balance  by  the  sledge  he  had  swung,  staggered 


256  The  Short  Line  War 

into  the  car.  Jawn  struck;  the  man's  collar- 
bone crackled  under  the  coupling  pin  and  he 
fell  forward  with  a  yell.  Then  over  him  and 
over  the  fallen  door  came  the  rush.  The  hand- 
ful of  defenders  chose  their  corners  and  fought 
in  them,  each  in  his  own  way ;  some  in  a  sort 
of  hysteria,  screaming  curses,  some  striking 
silently,  and  one,  the  singer,  with  a  laugh  on 
his  lips.  When  the  fireman  was  struck  sense- 
less, this  man  fought  over  him  until  forced  back 
by  press  of  numbers,  so  that  he  no  longer  had 
room  to  strike. 

The  defence  of  the  baggage  car  was  over, 
and  the  defenders,  disabled  and  disarmed,  were 
submitting  to  the  handcuffs  or  to  the  bits  of 
rope  which  were  used  in  securing  them,  when 
there  came  a  sound  of  cheering,  which  made 
their  captors  leave  them  hastily  and  clamber 
from  the  car.  The  relief  had  come. 

It  came  on  the  run,  with  Mallory  at  the  head. 
There  was  no  order,  no  pretence  at  formation ; 
simply  a  stream  of  eager,  angry  men,  some  run- 
ning through  the  cut  along  the  tracks,  others 
stumbling  through  the  woods  above,  all  ani- 
mated by  the  desire  to  reach  the  scene  of  action 
as  quickly  as  possible.  And  waiting  for  them 


The  Coming  of  Dawn  257 

was  another  mob  of  men,  the  main  body  of 
McNally's  army.  They  were  crowded  in  the 
cut  on  both  sides  of  the  train  they  had  just 
captured,  with  the  knowledge  rankling  in  their 
hearts  that  they  had  been  held  at  bay  by  a 
handful  of  determined  men.  They  were  glad 
they  had  somebody  to  fight. 

The  moment  the  two  bodies  of  men  came 
together  the  confusion  became  indescribable. 
The  men  had  no  means  of  distinguishing  be- 
tween friend  and  foe.  They  were  at  too  close 
quarters  to  make  fighting  possible,  and  if  it  had 
been,  no  one  would  have  known  whom  to  strike 
and  whom  to  defend.  The  cut  was  densely 
packed  with  men  who  strained  and  swayed 
and  struggled  and  swore,  but  who  could  not  by 
any  possibility  fight.  But  slowly  the  increasing 
weight  of  the  new  arrivals  began  to  tell,  and 
slowly,  almost  imperceptibly,  the  mass  began 
to  move  south.  Eventually  they  would  push 
out  of  the  cut  to  the  open,  where  they  could 
discuss  matters  more  satisfactorily. 

In  the  excitement  they  did  not  hear  the  long 

train  that  came  clanking  up  from  the  south  and 

stopped  just  behind  the  C.  &  S.  C.  train.     But 

a  moment  later  the  uproar  ceased,  as  sounded 

s 


258  The  Short  Line  War 

high  and  clear  the  echoing  bugles,  "Forward, 
Fours  left  into  line,  March ! "  Looking,  they 
saw  six  companies  of  the  National  Guard  come 
swinging  across  the  open,  the  horizontal  rays 
of  the  rising  sun  gilding  then-  fixed  bayonets. 

There  was  no  need  for  shot  or  bayonet  thrust, 
the  mob  was  quiet.  McNally,  as  he  stood  pant- 
ing in  the  thickest  of  the  crowd,  knew  what  it 
meant.  The  time  for  violence  was  over;  his 
army  had  outlived  its  usefulness.  And  he  knew 
that  however  the  fight  for  the  M.  &  T.  was  to 
be  won,  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

KATHERINE   DECIDES 

IT  was  some  hours  before  definite  informa- 
tion was  to  be  had  concerning  the  present  con- 
dition of  affairs.  No  one  knew  whether  his 
side  had  won  or  lost,  whether  the  M.  &  T.  was 
a  Weeks  road  or  a  Porter  road,  though  in  the 
excitement  each  claimed  control  and  made  im- 
mediate efforts  to  enforce  orders  relating  to  its 
conduct.  Messages  flew  back  and  forth  along 
the  singing  wires,  and  wrecking  trains  started 
almost  simultaneously  from  Manchester  and 
from  Truesdale,  with  instructions  to  clear  up 
the  muss  at  Sawyerville,  in  order  that  the  regu- 
lar train  service  be  resumed. 

But  before  matters  were  more  than  fairly 
under  way,  there  came  a  sudden  suspension  of 
action.  The  Weeks  wreckers  paused  at  Brush- 
ingham,  and  contented  themselves  with  pulling 
Harvey's  first  capture  back  on  the  rails.  That 
done,  the  conductor  stuffed  a  bundle  of  some- 
259 


2<5o  The  Short  Line  War 

what  contradictory  but  imperative  orders  into 
his  pocket,  and  stretched  himself  on  the  little 
red  bench  on  the  Brushingham  station  plat- 
form ;  the  engineer,  after  a  shouted  order,  set- 
tled down  to  the  nearest  approach  to  rest 
known  to  an  engineer  on  duty ;  the  division  car 
repairer  and  the  roadmaster  curled  up  in  the 
caboose,  for  they  had  been  routed  out  at  an 
unseemly  hour;  the  station  agent  amused  him- 
self reading  the  messages  that  rattled  through 
to  the  South  and  back,  telling  of  a  muddle  at 
headquarters.  When  a  wrecking  train  is  held 
for  orders,  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  something 
has  happened. 

Down  the  line  there  was  a  similar  occur- 
rence. The  Truesdale  repair  crew  was  caught 
at  Sawyerville  and  ordered  back.  But  before 
the  astonished  conductor  had  read  the  message 
through,  another  came  ordering  him  on,  subject 
no  longer  to  the  Superintendent's  orders,  but  to 
those  of  Colonel  Wray,  3d  N.  G. 

The  Governor  of  the  State,  in  the  conduct  of 
routine  matters,  was  usually  content  to  follow 
precedent,  which  means  that  the  State  House 
clerical  force  was  let  more  or  less  severely  alone 
to  govern  the  community,  while  the  executive 


Katherine  Decides  261 

directed  the  politics  of  his  party  with  a  view  to 
coming  elections.  At  times  an  emergency  oc- 
curred, miners  struck,  excited  citizens  lynched 
a  negro,  henchmen  of  the*  other  party  strained 
the  voting  laws,  municipal  corporations  en- 
deavored to  steal  State  privileges  —  in  any  of 
which  cases  he  delayed  definite  action  until 
public  sentiment  bayed  at  his  heels,  then  he 
acted  with  shrewdness  and  despatch.  At  the 
time  of  the  fight,  this  same  noisy  public  was 
keen  on  the  scent  of  the  railroads.  Certain 
street  railway  corporations  had  called  out  abuse 
by  methods  which  were  excusable  only  for 
their  success,  and  the  mass  saw  no  reason  to 
believe  that  one  corporation  was  better  than 
another.  Discriminating  freight  tariffs,  which 
had  seemed  to  favor  a  neighboring  State,  had 
thoroughly  antagonized  the  country  districts  — 
and  the  country  districts*  vote.  From  even  the 
solid  communities  had  come  rumors  of  restless- 
ness and  discontent.  Ward  bosses  were  wor- 
ried, county  magnates  were  dodging  reform 
committees  instigated  by  the  traditionally  con- 
scientious minority,  and  the  Governor  knew  that 
certain  bills  which  awaited  his  signature  were 
not  likely  to  increase  his  following. 


262  The  Short  Line  War 

So  it  was  that  the  great  man  was  watching, 
watching  and  waiting,  for  the  opportunity  to 
strike  a  blow  which  should  swing  public  senti- 
ment around  in  his  favor.  Up  to  the  present 
the  whole  State  had  been  quiet.  The  miners 
were  as  orderly  as  the  Sunday-school  over 
which  he  presided  when  in  his  native  town. 
The  great  labor  organizations  he  was  so  eager 
to  conciliate  perversely  gave  him  no  oppor- 
tunity. 

And  so  it  was  that  when  messages  came 
pouring  in  upon  him  from  bosses  and  chairmen 
and  advisers  urging  immediate  interference  in 
the  M.  &  T.  fight,  when  the  sheriff  of  Maiden 
County  sent  in  an  hysterical  report,  all  insti- 
gated by  the  pungent  advices  from  mad  and 
muddy  Senator  Sporty  Jones  —  the  Governor 
inclined  his  ear.  He  was  a  shrewd  man,  and 
he  knew  that  in  order  to  make  a  distinct  im- 
pression on  The  Public  his  blow  must  be  sudden 
and  spectacular.  The  longer  he  thought  on 
it,  the  more  the  opportunity  pleased  him,  and 
before  the  evening  was  far  advanced  Colonel 
Wray  was  speeding  to  Truesdale. 

The  Third  was  not  a  city  regiment.  It  was 
made  up  of  men  from  the  middle  sections  of  the 


Katherine  Decides  263 

State,  a  company  to  every  few  counties  with 
battalion  headquarters  in  three  of  the  smaller 
cities,  Truesdale  for  one.  In  the  city  regiments 
was  a  blue-stocking  element  which  did  not  fit 
the  Governor's  present  needs. 

As  soon  as  Colonel  Wray  reached  Truesdale, 
he  established  himself  in  the  inhospitable  ware- 
house which  in  reports  was  called  an  armory. 
Before  midnight  the  local  company  was  col- 
lected, uniformed,  and  in  order.  Later  special 
trains  arrived,  and  squads  and  companies 
marched  through  the  echoing  streets,  to  sit  doz- 
ing about  the  armory.  At  three-thirty  a  train 
came  in  from  the  southern  counties  bringing 
the  second  battalion,  three  hundred  husky  farm 
lads  who  glowed  with  responsibility  as  they 
stacked  arms  and  awaited  orders. 

Then  came  a  telephone  message  that  Mc- 
Nally's  relief  train  had  left  for  the  North. 
Colonel  Wray  waited  no  longer  but  marched 
over  to  the  station,  seized  the  telegraph  office 
and  the  telephone,  placed  guards  at  each  en- 
trance and  about  the  train  shed,  ordered  the 
yard  master  to  make  up  another  train,  levied  on 
the  station  restaurant  for  six  hundred  cups  of 
coffee,  and  tore  fly-leaves  from  the  news-stand 


264  The  Short  Line   War 

books  to  write  special  orders  for  the  waiting 
adjutant. 

Meanwhile  Porter  was  feverish.  He  tried  to 
bulldoze  the  sergeant  in  the  telegraph  office 
only  to  be  hustled  off  by  a  corporal's  guard. 
He  finally  reached  the  Colonel's  ear,  but  was 
heard  in  courteous  silence.  He  made  an  effort 
to  call  up  the  Oakwood  Club  to  send  a  message 
to  McNally,  but  the  sunburned  young  fellow  in 
the  'phone  box  leaned  on  his  rifle  and  shook  his 
head.  The  same  thing  happened  when  he  tried 
to  get  out  of  the  building  —  "  Sorry,  sir.  Cap- 
tain's orders  "  —  and  the  baffled  magnate  paced 
up  and  down  the  waiting  room  between  long  files 
of  light-hearted  boys  in  blue.  It  was  humiliating 
to  consider  that  he  had  subscribed  heavily  toward 
fitting  up  the  Truesdale  armory,  that  half  the 
officers  knew  him  and  feared  his  influence. 

While  he  was  racking  his  brain  sudden  orders 
were  shouted  through  the  building.  The  loung- 
ing groups  came  up  with  a  jerk,  there  was  a  rat- 
tle of  arms,  and  in  ten  seconds  the  farm  boys 
had  resolved  into  a  machine,  a  set  of  rigid  blue 
lines  that  reached  the  length  of  the  waiting  room. 
There  was  another  order,  and  one  after  another 
the  companies  broke  into  columns  of  twos  and 


Katherine  Decides  26$ 

swung  through  the  glass  doors,  which  were  held 
open  by  a  couple  of  scared  but  admiring  waiters. 

Porter  followed  the  last  company  and  stood  in 
the  doorway  behind  two  crossed  rifles  watching  the 
troops  climb  into  the  cars.  The  Colonel  stood  at 
the  track  gate  as  the  men  marched  through,  talk- 
ing with  his  aids.  Porter  thought  for  a  moment  of 
calling  to  him,  but  realized  the  futility  of  it  after 
the  treatment  he  had  just  received.  Besides, 
even  a  railroad  president  could  hardly  keep  his 
dignity  with  those  ridiculous  guns  under  his  nose. 
So  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  to  his  temporary 
headquarters  in  the  station  agent's  office,  but  to 
find  that  the  young  captain  left  in  command  by 
Colonel  Wray  had  made  himself  at  home  and 
was  issuing  orders  to  a  snub-nosed  lieutenant. 

Porter  took  a  chair  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow. For  a  moment  he  was  too  weary  to  be 
aggressive.  Worry  and  loss  of  sleep  had  lined 
his  face,  and  the  absence  of  news  from  McNally 
kept  his  nerves  strung.  As  he  sat  there  grip- 
ping the  arms  of  the  chair,  face  a  little  flushed, 
hair  disarranged,  collar  dusty,  he  looked  ten 
years  past  his  age.  It  was  a  critical  moment  in 
the  fight,  and  he  knew  it,  but  cornered  as  he 
was,  absolutely  uninformed  as  to  his  position  in 


266  The  Short  Line  War 

the  struggle,  or  the  meaning  of  the  military  dis- 
play, a  sense  of  helplessness  almost  unnerved 
him.  Heretofore  his  fights  had  been  largely 
conducted  through  deferential  employees.  He 
was  accustomed  to  bows  and  scrapes,  to  men 
who  feared  him,  who  watched  his  every  move  in 
awe,  and  to  find  himself  utterly  at  the  mercy  of 
these  tin  soldiers  was  disgusting.  It  was  twenty- 
four  hours  since  he  had  had  a  wink  of  sleep  and 
eighteen  since  he  had  eaten  a  full  meal  —  facts 
which  in  no  small  measure  lessened  the  stability 
of  his  mental  poise.  And  there  he  sat  waiting 
through  the  darkness  and  the  dawn. 

The  reds  and  golds  in  the  eastern  sky  spread 
and  paled.  The  little  green-clad  city  stretched 
down  the  gentle  hill,  now  indistinct  in  the  haze. 
An  early  electric  car  whirred  and  jangled  past 
the  station,  and  Porter  was  half  conscious  of  the 
noise.  He  got  up,  straightened  his  stiff  joints, 
and  went  to  the  lunch  counter,  where  he  had  to 
jostle  between  two  gawky  privates  before  he 
could  order  a  cup  of  smoky  cereal  coffee  and  a 
sandwich.  After  getting  a  place  he  could  not 
eat,  so  he  returned  to  the  office.  Now  that  some 
sort  of  routine  was  established,  the  Captain 
showed  a  willingness  to  meet  him  civilly. 


Katherine  Decides  267 

"  See  here/*  said  Porter,  after  a  few  common- 
places had  been  exchanged,  "how  long  is  this 
going  to  keep  up  ?  There  is  no  sense  in  hold- 
ing me  here." 

"Sorry,  sir.  I  have  no  desire  to  inconven- 
ience you,  but  my  orders  are  to  let  no  one  out 
and  no  one  in.  And  you  know  what  orders  are 
for." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  —  Porter  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  looked  out  the  window,  —  "  but 
there's  such  a  thing  as  going  to  extremes.  Some- 
times common  sense  supersedes  orders." 

"You  forget,  Mr.  Porter,  that  you  are  here 
for  the  purpose  of  conducting  a  raid,  and  we  are 
here  to  stop  that  raid.  Under  the  circumstances 
it  is  my  duty  to  hold  you  and  every  one  connected 
with  the  affair  until  I  am  otherwise  ordered." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  thief,  man." 

"  No,  perhaps  not."  The  Captain  turned  to 
some  papers  on  the  desk,  and  Porter  continued 
to  look  out,  wearily,  with  a  sudden  dull  ache 
above  his  eyes. 

A  corporal  appeared  in  the  doorway,  saluting. 

"  There's  a  young  lady,  sir,  says  she's  got  to 
see  Mr.  Porter." 

"  Who  is  she  ? " 


268  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Don't  know,  but  she  sticks  to  it." 

"  It's  my  daughter,"  said  Porter,  with  an 
effort  to  rise.  "  Where  is  she  ? " 

"  Wait,"  the  Captain  said ;  "  I'll  speak  to  her," 
and  he  followed  the  soldier. 

Porter  sat  still.  After  a  little  he  heard  voices 
in  the  waiting  room,  and  Katherine  entered  the 
office.  At  the  sight  of  his  worn,  haggard  face 
her  annoyed  expression  vanished,  and  she  drew 
the  Captain's  chair  beside  her  father's  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  forehead. 

"  You  are  sick,"  she  said  gently. 

"  Nonsense "  —  he  made  a  feeble  effort  to 
shake  off  her  hand  —  "  I  asked  you  not  to  come 
back.  I'm  tired,  that's  all." 

Katherine  rose  and  looked  about. 

"  Come  into  the  waiting  room,  dad,  and  lie 
down.  You  must  have  some  sleep  or  you  won't 
be  good  for  anything." 

"You  must  go  back,"  said  Porter,  shaking 
his  head.  "  This  is  no  place  for  you." 

Katherine  looked  quietly  into  his  eyes.  It 
was  not  the  first  time  that  the  strain  of  his  busy 
life  had  told  upon  her  father's  nerves,  and  she 
knew  what  was  the  matter. 

"  Come,  dad,"  she  said.  .  "  Get  a  little  sleep, 


Katherine  Decides  269 

and  I'll  stay  by  and  wake  you  if  there  is  any 
news." 

Porter  scowled,  then  slowly  rose.  The  Cap- 
tain, who  had  been  hesitating  in  the  doorway, 
came  forward  to  assist.  Porter  turned  on  him 
savagely.  "Let  me  alone.  I  can  walk,  I 
guess."  But  at  a  glance  from  Katherine  the 
Captain  took  an  arm,  and  Porter  submitted, 
seemingly  unconscious  of  his  inconsistency. 

Along  the  walls  of  the  waiting  room  were 
benches,  and  on  one  of  these  they  tried  to  make 
Porter  comfortable.  When  she  saw  that  his 
head  must  rest  on  the  .wooden  seat,  Katherine 
hesitated  and  looked  at  the  Captain,  who  was 
following  her  with  his  eyes. 

"  I  wish  there  was  something  for  a  pillow," 
she  said.  "  Perhaps  "  —  she  stood  erect  and 
looked  slowly  about  the  waiting  room,  then 
stepped  to  the  door  of  the  office,  returning  with 
a  pretty  frown.  "I  wonder"  —  she  met  the 
Captain's  gaze  smiling  frankly  —  "  if  you  would 
let  me  take  your  coat." 

He  was  not  an  old  officer,  and  he  was  not  a 
hermit,  so  with  but  slight  hesitation  he  un- 
buckled his  belt,  removed  the  coat,  rolled  it  up, 
and  as  Katherine  raised  her  father's  head  he 
slipped  it  underneath. 


2/0  The  Short  Line  War 

"  Will  you  send  one  of  your  men  to  a  drug 
store  for  some  camphor  ?"  said  Katherine, 
fumbling  in  the  purse  that  hung  from  her  belt 

The  Captain  beckoned  to  one  of  the  soldiers 
who  were  clustered  about  the  door,  and  placed 
him  at  Katherine's  disposal.  When  he  returned 
she  soaked  her  handkerchief  with  the  camphor 
and  laid  it  on  her  father's  forehead.  He  was 
already  asleep. 

"  He'll  be  better  as  soon  as  he  has  had  a  little 
rest,"  Katherine  said.  "  You  are  very  good  to 
help  us."  The  Captain  bowed  with  the  expres- 
sion of  a  man  who  has  just  been  promoted,  but 
said  nothing. 

For  an  hour  Porter  slept,  and  during  that 
time  Katherine  stayed  by  him,  moistening  the 
folded  handkerchief  and  chafing  his  wrists. 
The  Captain,  his  importance  and  self-command 
oozing  away  a  bit  at  a  time  as  he  watched  the 
cool,  quiet  girl,  hovered  near  as  often  as  his 
dignity  would  permit  with  offers  of  assistance, 
most  of  which  Katherine  accepted.  He  put  her 
horses  and  trap  in  charge  of  a  militiaman,  he 
brought  out  a  rocking-chair  for  her,  and  when, 
a  little  after  eight  o'clock,  Porter  showed  signs 
of  waking,  he  sent  out  for  some  breakfast. 


Katherine  Decides  271 

On  Porter,  the  touch  of  sleep,  the  welcome 
cup  of  coffee,  and  more  than  anything  else  his 
daughter's  soothing  presence,  seemed  to  have  a 
marked  effect.  He  sat  up,  leaning  back  heavily, 
and  with  a  struggle  collected  his  thoughts. 
Katherine  joked  with  him,  and  fussed  over  him 
with  a  maternal  solicitude  that  made  the  Captain 
smile. 

At  eight-thirty,  as  Porter  was  sipping  another 
cup  of  coffee,  the  corporal  appeared. 

"  A  man  says  he's  got  to  see  Mr.  Porter,  sir. 
A  Mr.  McNally." 

"  McNally/'  cried  Porter,  starting  up  only  to 
sink  back,  breathing  heavily.  "  Bring  him  here. 
I've  got  to  see  him." 

The  Captain  hesitated. 

"  Did  he  state  his  business  ? " 

"  No,  sir.  But  he  has  a  pass  through  the 
lines  at  Sawyerville,  signed  by  Colonel  Wray." 

"  Um  —  let  him  come  in." 

It  was  not  the  Mr.  McNally  who  had  played 
for  Katherine  two  nights  before.  That  had 
been  a  well-groomed,  self-possessed  man  of  the 
world;  this  was  a  muddy,  unshaven,  angry 
man,  who  spoke  in  a  loud  voice  and  smothered 
an  oath  just  too  late  to  keep  it  from  her  ear. 


272  The  Short  Line   War 

He  recovered  somewhat,  but  even  McNally 
could  not  lose  sleep  and  temper  for  so  many 
hours  without  a  more  or  less  immediate  result. 
As  she  looked  at  him  with  a  cool  bow, 
Katherine  thought  of  Harvey,  and  something 
caught  in  her  throat. 

" Well,"  said  Porter,  "what  about  it?  What's 
happened  ?  Who's  running  this  road  ? " 

McNally  looked  curiously  at  the  Captain 
before  he  replied.  That  officer,  at  an  appeal- 
ing glance  from  Katherine,  left  the  group. 

"  The  Governor  is  running  it.  He's  played  a 
game  that  knocks  us  silly.  He's  come  down  on 
us  and  cinched  things  for  the  senatorship  at  one 
crack." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  In  his  excitement 
Porter  sat  erect. 

"The  Old  Man  has  declared  the  M.  &  T. 
under  military  rule  until  the  courts  choose  to 
settle  it  to  suit  themselves.  That  throws  us 
out,  throws  Weeks  out,  and  the  devil  take  the 
hindmost." 

"  Has  there  been  trouble  ?  " 

"They  smashed  into  us  at  Sawyerville" — he 
suddenly  remembered  Katherine — "Excuse  me, 
Miss  Porter,  I  must  see  your  father  alone." 


Katherine  Decides  273 

"  He  cannot  be  excited,  Mr.  McNally." 

"There  is  no  time  to  waste  —  " 

Katherine  turned  abruptly  and  went  into  the 
office. 

"Yes,"  said  McNally,  "they  ripped  into  us 
at  Sawyerville  and  we  had  the  hell  of  a  time  till 
Wray's  guards  came  up  and  stopped  it.  Wray 
let  me  through,  —  it  was  just  after  daylight, — 
and  I  picked  up  a  horse  from  a  farmer  and  rode 
down.  But  we  got  West  though,  damn  him !  — 
caught  him  sneaking  through  the  bushes." 

"  Be  careful,  McNally,  we've  got  to  be  care- 
ful. It's  no  time  to  get  mixed  up  in  a  thing  like 
that  —  we  —  we  can't  afford  —  " 

"That's  all  right,  Porter.  We  don't  know 
where  he  is  —  I  don't  know,  you  don't  know  — 
and  before  we  find  out  he'll  be  loose  again." 

"But  —  Jim  —  Weeks  don't  forget  that  kind 
of  thing,  McNally  —  Jim  Weeks  —  " 

"  Oh,  damn  Jim  Weeks  !  I'll  take  care  of 
him." 

Porter  paused  to  drink  at  a  gulp  what  was 
left  of  his  coffee. 

"  Remember,  McNally,  I  can't  back  you  if 
you  get  careless  —  I  can't  .back  you,  you 
know." 


274  The  Short  Line  War 

"  God,  man  !  you've  got  to  back  me  !  You've 
got  to  back  me  through  everything,  or  you'll 
go  down  with  me.  I  tell  you,  Porter,  we're  too 
far  in  to  back  out,  and  it's  nerve  that's  going  to 
win.  If  you  don't  back  me,  if  you  don't  draw 
on  every  cent  you've  got  to  shove  it  through, 
you'll  be  the  one  to  be  hit  —  not  me."  He 
paced  the  floor.  "Yes,  sir.  It's  you  if  it's 
anybody."  Suddenly  he  stopped.  He  looked 
hard  at  Porter,  then  he  turned  quickly  and 
strode  into  the  office.  Katherine  was  standing 
at  the  window. 

"  Miss  Katherine  —  " 

"  Mr.  McNally,  my  name  is  Miss  Porter." 

"  Miss  —  Miss  Porter,  I  met  a  friend  of  yours 
this  morning.  I  met  him  under  peculiar  circum- 
stances. We  had  some  words,  I  regret  to  say, 
and  he  left  this  with  me."  The  plump,  dirty 
hand  drew  a  blue  envelope  from  McNally's  coat 
pocket.  "  It  has  seemed  to  me  that  where  your 
father's  honor  was  as  seriously  involved  as  in 
this  matter,  you  should  have  followed  some 
other  course  than  that  of  traitor." 

In  his  excitement,  McNally  misunderstood 
Katherine's  silence. 

"You    have    deliberately    drawn    out    your 


Katherine  Decides  275 

father  and  me  that  you  might  aid  our  opponents. 
I  have  watched  you  —  I  have  seen  it  —  it  is  not 
your  fault  that  we  are  not  ruined  —  and  for  the 
sake  of  a  man  that  I  caught  spying  on  us  this 
morning,  sneaking  through  the  bushes  in  the 
dark  —  11 

There  was  a  groan  from  the  doorway.  Porter 
stood  there  with  one  hand  over  his  eyes.  Kath- 
erine looked  for  an  instant,  then  she  brushed 
past  McNally,  and  with  one  arm  about  her 
father  she  called  to  the  Captain,  who  stood  at 
the  other  side  of  the  waiting  room.  He  came 
at  once. 

"  Captain,"  she  said,  "  I  must  ask  you  to  take 
care  of  my  father.  Please  telephone  for  a 
doctor  and  a  closed  carriage,  and  see  that  he  is 
sent  home  at  once.  I  shall  drive  there  in  the 
trap  to  prepare  for  him.  Don't  let  this  man  " 
—  she  turned  contemptuously  toward  McNally 
— "  speak  to  him  or  excite  him  in  any  way. 
Will  you  do  this?"  As  she  spoke  her  face 
softened,  and  she  held  out  her  hand.  The  Cap- 
tain took  it. 

"Yes,  Miss  Porter,  I  will  take  care  of  him." 

Katherine,  without  looking  again  at  McNally, 
walked  to  the  door  and  called  for  her  trap.  As 


276  The  Short  Line   War 

she  waited  on  the  steps,  a  newsboy  came  run- 
ning down  the  walk,  crying :  — 

"Nine  o'clock  Extry!  All  'bout  M.  &  T. 
riot ! " 

Katherine  stopped  him  and  bought  a  paper. 
The  black  headings  told  the  story  tersely,  but 
one  item  stood  out  with  vivid  distinctness.  She 
read,  "Harvey  West  Disappears  —  Supposed 
that  He  Was  Kidnapped  —  His  Followers  Swear 
Vengeance  —  Rumored  that  He  Is  Hidden 
Near  The  Oakwood  Club."  For  a  moment  the 
blood  left  her  face,  and  her  nerves  tightened, 
but  when  the  trap  was  pulled  up  she  was  herself, 
and  the  smile  she  gave  the  soldier  in  charge 
brought  forth  an  earnest  but  amateurish  salute. 

Then  Katherine  drove  home  —  it  was  her 
duty  to  go  home.  But,  her  duty  done,  she 
would  drive  straight  to  the  Oakwood  Club. 


CHAPTER  XX 

HARVEY 

BEFORE  the  dawn  broke  on  Thursday  morning 
Harvey  was  a  prisoner.  It  was  so  absurd,  so 
ridiculously  theatrical,  that  had  he  not  been  too 
tired  to  think  clearly,  his  sense  of  humor  would 
have  been  equal  to  the  occasion ;  as  it  was,  he 
was  angry,  baffled,  desperate.  While  held  in 
the  thicket  by  Wilkins's  gang  he  had  caught  a 
voice  too  like  McNally's  to  be  easily  mistaken, 
and  when  McNally  struck  the  match  that 
showed  him  the  papers,  Harvey  had  with  an 
effort  flopped  over  on  the  leaves,  bound  as  he 
was,  and  through  the  bushes  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  McNally's  face  and  figure. 

While  the  shooting  and  the  uproar  sounded 
from  the  cut  Harvey  was  held  in  the  woods,  but 
before  the  second  encounter  his  captors  jerked 
him  to  his  feet,  tied  his  handkerchief  across  his 
eyes,  and  led  him  stumbling  away.  In  a  few 
moments  Harvey  lost  all  sense  of  direction. 
He  figured  that  he  was  still  on  the  east  side  of 
277 


278  The  Short  Line   War 

the  track,  and  in  all  probability  was  going  south- 
east on  the  river  road.  For  a  short  while  he 
tried  to  keep  the  direction,  but  realizing  that  he 
might  be  turned  without  knowing  it,  he  gave  up 
and  decided  to  rely  upon  a  chance  opportunity 
to  escape.  Undoubtedly  his  guards  were  acting 
simply  as  agents,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
might  be  able  to  influence  them ;  but  as  his  oc- 
casional attempts  at  conversation  brought  only 
profanity  in  reply,  he  fell  back  upon  silence. 

Through  his  thin  bandage  he  could  feel  that 
the  light  was  growing  brighter.  Then  he  was 
led  from  the  road,  splashing  through  a  ditch  and 
sprawling  over  another  fence.  He  bumped  into 
a  tree.  The  men  jerked  him  roughly  away  and 
led  him  forward,  twisting  and  stepping  from 
side  to  side.  Occasionally  his  foot  struck  a  fallen 
log.  Evidently  they  were  in  a  heavy  wood. 

At  best  their  progress  was  very  slow  and  was 
marked  with  numerous  haltings  and  delays. 
Finally,  about  two  hours  after  the  start,  Harvey 
was  thrust  through  a  doorway  and  a  lock  clicked 
behind  him.  He  tore  off  the  handkerchief  and 
found  himself  in  a  small  office,  evidently  de- 
serted, for  the  rusted  stove,  the  broken  chair,  and 
the  floor  were  thickly  coated  with  dust.  There 


Harvey  279 

was  one  window,  empty  of  glass  and  boarded  up 
from*  the  outside.  He  looked  through  a  crack 
and  saw  the  caved-in  shaft  house  and  the  strag- 
gling waste  heap  of  a  worked-out  mine.  "  Won- 
der how  long  they're  going  to  try  this  game/1 
he  thought.  He  picked  up  the  remains  of  a 
chair  and  tipping  it  over  sat  on  the  rounds. 

Harvey  was  nearly  done  for.  Aside  from 
the  strain  of  the  week,  and  particularly  of  the 
night  just  ended,  he  was  wet  to  the  knees,  and 
his  head  ached  from  a  chance  blow  received 
during  his  brief  struggle  near  the  Sawyerville 
station.  His  eyelids  drooped,  and  for  fear  of 
dropping  off  to  sleep  he  rose  and  walked  the 
floor.  Gradually  his  head  cleared.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  McNally  would  have  run  the  risk 
involved  in  kidnapping  him  only  because  it  was 
very  important  he  should  be  gotten  out  of  the 
way.  Therefore,  he  reasoned,  it  was  equally  im- 
portant from  his  point  of  view  that  he  remain 
decidedly  in  the  way.  He  looked  through  the 
crack  and  saw  three  men  standing  a  few  yards 
from  the  window  talking  excitedly.  Their  voices 
were  gradually  rising. 

"  What  you  goin'  to  do  with  him  ? "  asked  one. 
"We  can't  keep  him  here." 


280  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Well,  it's  only  for  a  few  days." 
"  But  who's  goin'  to  feed  him  ?  " 
"  Yes,"  said  the  third,  "  an'  how  about  us  ?  " 
"Oh,  you'll  be  all  right,"  from  the  big  man, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  leader  ;  "that's  all  fixed." 
"  Who's  goin'  to  do  it—  McNally  ? " 
"Ssh!"   the  leader  looked  around,  and  all 
three  lowered  their  voices. 

Finally  they  seemed  to  reach  an  agreement ; 
for  the  first  speaker  turned  and  walked  rapidly 
toward  the  woods,  and  the  others  took  to  patrol- 
ling the  small  building. 

Again  Harvey  walked  the  floor.  If  he  was 
to  be  of  any  service  to  Jim  Weeks  during  what 
was  left  of  the  fight,  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  he  escape  as  soon  as  possible.  In  the 
course  of  his  work  as  Jim's  private  secretary  he 
had  become  fairly  well  acquainted  with  the  de- 
tails of  his  employer's  many  interests.  Nearly 
all  the  mines  along  the  M.  &  T.  were  owned  or 
controlled  by  the  capital  which  Jim  represented, 
and  Harvey  knew  the  location  of  each  of  these. 
There  was  but  one  abandoned  mine  in  the 
Sawyerville  district,  the  Valley  Shaft ;  it  was 
about  four  miles  from  Sawyerville  station  and 
perhaps  three  or  four  from  the  Oakwood  Club. 


Harvey  281 

Therefore,  he  reasoned,  if  he  once  broke  loose 
from  this  galling  restraint,  he  would  soon  be  in  a 
position  to  communicate  with  Jim. 

Outside,  the  big  man  stood  directly  before  the 
window;  his  fellow  could  be  heard  walking  to 
and  fro  in  the  rear  of  the  building.  Harvey 
looked  about  the  room.  There  was  nothing  to 
serve  as  a  weapon,  except  some  part  of  the 
stove.  He  bent  down  and  removed  one  of  the 
small  iron  legs,  taking  care  to  make  no  noise. 
Then  he  examined  the  window.  The  boards 
were  half-inch  stuff,  nailed  on  with  little  idea  of 
security,  probably  because  the  office  contained 
nothing  worth  stealing.  He  figured  that  it 
would  be  no  difficult  matter  for  a  man  of  his 
weight  and  strength  to  force  an  exit.  For  the 
moment  he  forgot  his  weariness. 

Accordingly  he  drew  back  across  the  room, 
and  bracing  for  a  second  against  the  wall,  he 
ran  forward  and  threw  himself  at  the  boards. 
They  gave  way  more  easily  than  he  had  sup- 
posed, and  a  rapid  effort  landed  him  squarely 
on  the  leader,  who  had  turned  at  the  noise. 
The  struggle  was  short.  Each  had  received  a 
few  hard  blows  when  the  man  jerked  his  right 
arm  loose  and  reached  back  for  his  revolver. 


282  Tke  Short  Line   War 

Harvey  took  advantage  of  his  open  guard  to 
strike  a  quick  blow  with  the  stove  leg  and 
brought  the  fellow  to  the  ground.  Harvey 
rolled  him  over,  took  the  revolver  from  his 
pocket,  and  picked  up  his  own  hat.  A  noise 
from  behind  the  building  called  to  mind  the 
other  man,  and  he  hurried  forward.  The  other 
was  walking  stealthily  toward  the  shaft  house. 

"  Say/'  called  Harvey. 

The  man  turned  sullenly. 

"Your  friend  there  —  he  doesn't  feel  well," 
Harvey  laughed  nervously  and  gestured  with 
the  revolver;  "you'd  better  look  after  him. 
I've  got  to  go  now."  He  paused  to  glance  back 
at  the  big  man,  who  was  lying  on  one  elbow  and 
rubbing  his  head,  then  he  turned  and  ran 
toward  the  woods. 

Once  on  the  way,  however,  Harvey's  sudden 
nervous  strength  deserted  him.  One  of  his 
opponent's  blows  had  cut  his  scalp,  and  he  was 
surprised  to  feel  blood  trickling  down  his  face. 
He  ran  until  his  breath  gave  out,  then  he  walked, 
struggling  to  overcome  the  dizziness  that  was 
coming  on  him.  After  going  some  distance  he 
found  a  bridle  path,  and  soon  saw  the  river  road 
before  him.  The  need  of  hurry  urging  him  on,  he 


Harvey  283 

left  the  path  to  cut  across  a  meadow.  With  some 
difficulty  he  drew  himself  upon  the  fence,  and 
paused  for  breath  with  one  leg  thrown  over'  the 
top  rail.  Then  he  felt  a  wave  of  dizziness,  and, 
his  muscles  relaxing,  he  pitched  forward  into 
the  long  grass. 

Good  nursing,  proper  food,  and  a  brief  rest  / 
were  enough  to  pull  together  Porter's  yielding 
nerves.  There  was  some  delay  at  first  in  getting 
a  physician,  and  Katherine  was  obliged  to  wait 
for  the  greater  part  of  an  hour  before  the  slowly 
driven  carriage  brought  her  father  home.  Con- 
siderable time  passed  before  his  improvement 
justified  her  in  leaving  the  house,  and  then  it 
was  so  near  noon  that  she  decided  to  wait  until 
after  lunch. 

Once  on  the  road  behind  Ned  and  Nick,  and 
beside  the  erect  groom,  Katherine  realized  the 
delicacy  of  the  situation.  Up  to  this  moment 
she  had  been  acting  frankly  upon  impulse.  It 
was  so  clear  to  her  mind  that  McNally  had 
been  instrumental  in  the  kidnapping  of  Harvey, 
and  the  sudden  emotion  aroused  by  the  whole 
affair  had  so  overwhelmed  her,  that  for  the 
time  her  only  thought  had  been  to  get  to  Har- 


284  The  Short  Line  War 

vey,  to  be  near  him  and  of  some  service  to  him. 
But  Katherine's  impulse  on  this  occasion  was 
not  far  in  advance  of  her  reason,  and  what  had 
begun  in  a  whirl  of  excitement  was  continued  in 
a  spirit  of  quiet  persistence.  To  be  sure,  there 
was  a  moment  of  wavering,  but  even  then  she 
did  not  think  seriously  of  turning  back.  Any- 
way, there  was  nothing  marked  or  unusual  in 
frequent  drives  to  the  club  during  this  crisp 
golfing  weather. 

It  was  after  two  o'clock  when  she  rdached  the 
club.  The  links  were  dotted  here  and  there 
with  golfers,  and  the  usual  autumn  quiet  hung 
about  the  verandas  and  halls  of  the  building, 
but  in  the  office  there  was  bustle  and  excitement. 
Katherine  stood  near  the  wide  fireplace  in  the 
lower  hall  drawing  off  her  gloves  and  looking 
through  the  office  door.  A  man  was  telephoning, 
a  big  man  with  a  quiet  voice.  In  a  moment  he 
rang  off  and  turned  around.  His  face  interested 
Katherine  and  she  watched  him  as  he  talked  to 
the  steward;  she  could  not  help  hearing  the 
conversation. 

"  I've  got  to  have  another  horse/1  the  big  man 
was  saying.  "  I'll  pay  you  whatever  your  time 
is  worth.  I  want  this  whole  county  stirred  up 
in  half  an  hour." 


Harvey  285 

"But,  sir,  I  cannot  leave  the  club.  We  are 
short  of  help  as  it  is,  and  the  caddies  are  busy." 

"  I've  no  time  to  talk.  A  man  has  been  kid- 
napped and  very  likely  injured.  You  get  a  rig 
—  any  kind,  a  farm  wagon,  if  the  horses  are 
good  —  and  have  it  here  in  fifteen  minutes. 
Figure  your  time  at  whatever  you  like  and  send 
the  bill  to  me." 

He  handed  a  card  to  the  steward,  who  looked 
at  it  with  a  slight  start,  and  murmuring,  "  Cer- 
tainly, Mr.  Weeks,"  started  down  the  hall. 
Katherine  stopped  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Perry  ? " 

"  Jim  —  Mr.  Weeks.     He  wants  a  horse." 

"  You  may  lend  him  my  trap  —  And,  Perry, 
say  nothing  of  it."  Without  waiting  for  a  re- 
ply, she  went  into  the  reading  room,  picked  up 
a  magazine,  and,  throwing  open  her  jacket,  sat 
on  the  broad  window-seat.  A  moment  later 
Ned  and  Nick  were  pulled  up  on  the  drive,  Jim 
Weeks  climbed  in  beside  the  groom,  and  they 
hurried  down  toward  the  bridge. 

The  magazine  lay  open  in  Katherine's  lap. 
She  rested  an  elbow  on  the  window-sill  and  sat 
for  a  long  time  looking  out  across  the  valley. 
Not  two  weeks  before  this  day  she  had  stood 


286  The  Short  Line   War 

on  the  veranda  with  Harvey,  looking  at  the 
same  picture  through  the  haze  of  twilight 
Then  it  had  seemed  like  summer;  now  it  was 
unmistakably  autumn.  Then  the  leaves  were 
only  beginning  to  yield  to  the  touch  of  the  wan- 
ing year ;  now  they  were  aflame  and  dropping 
—  as  she  looked  a  whirl  of  them  danced  across 
the  sloping  lawn,  the  stragglers  settling  in  the 
grass  already  marked  by  little  dabs  of  red  and 
russet  brown.  Farther  off,  in  the  valley,  were 
corn-fields,  now  squares  of  yellow  and  bronze 
and  gold.  It  was  a  glowing  picture,  but  to 
Katherine  it  meant  only  that  summer  was  dead, 
and  she  viewed  it  with  vague  regret. 

The  afternoon  wore  on,  but  Katherine  took 
no  account  of  it.  At  a  little  after  four,  when 
Jim  Weeks  drove  up  and  entered  the  building, 
she  was  startled  into  looking  at  her  watch. 
She  heard  the  telephone  bell  ring,  and  realized 
that  he  was  talking.  Then  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  hall.  She  wanted  to  go  out  there  and 
ask  him  about  Harvey,  whether  he  was  found, 
or  whether  —  she  shuddered  a  little  at  the 
thought  of  injury  —  but  a  feeling  of  helpless- 
ness possessed  her.  She  realized  that  the  time 
was  slipping  rapidly  away.  Jim  Weeks  might 


Harvey  287 

go,  and  she  would  have  learned  nothing,  would 
have  done  nothing.  But  she  had  not  come  al- 
together in  vain.  She  recalled  with  half-defiant 
pride  that  Jim  had  used  her  horses. 

"  You  are  Miss  Porter  ?  " 

Katherine  started,  and  turned  with  a  slow 
blush.  Weeks  stood  gravely  looking  at  her. 

"  I  understand  that  I  have  to  thank  you,"  he 
continued.  "  They  were  your  horses,  I  believe. 
I  hope  I  have  not  inconvenienced  you  by  keep- 
ing you  here.  But  it  was  an  emergency." 

"Has  Mr.  West  been  found?"  Katherine 
struggled  to  keep  the  anxiety  out  of  her  voice. 

"  No."  Weeks  sat  down.  "  It  seems  impos- 
sible to  get  any  word.  I've  roused  things 
pretty  effectively  though,  I  think.  There's  a 
reward  up.  The  sheriffs  of  both  counties  are 
at  work,  and  the  farmers  are  all  stirred  up. 
There's  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  If  he's  found, 
and  by  any  chance  is  hurt,  they're  to  bring 
him  here." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  plan  to  have  a  doctor 
here,  in  case  —  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary.  Of  course 
the  probability  is  that  he  is  locked  up  some- 
where and  is  being  held  for  a  day  or  so.  If  he 


288  The  Short  Line  War 

is  knocked  out,  it  was  not  done  intentionally. 
They  wouldn't  dare." 

At  the  word  "they0  Katherine  winced  a 
little,  but  Weeks  apparently  was  entirely  imper- 
sonal. There  was  a  silence,  Weeks  sitting  with 
slightly  drawn  brows  but  with  an  otherwise  im- 
passive face,  Katherine  looking  out  the  window. 
A  little  later  a  wagon  came  slowly  up  the  road- 
way. Two  men  were  on  the  seat  and  a  third 
reclined  in  the  box.  They  were  driving  care- 
fully, and  Jim  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  the 
wheels  until  a  subdued  exclamation  from  Kath- 
erine drew  his  attention.  She  was  sitting  erect, 
her  hands  gripping  a  cushion.  Jim  followed 
her  gaze,  then  without  a  word  he  rose  and  hur- 
ried from  the  room. 

A  moment  later  Katherine  saw  the  wagon 
pull  up  at  the  steps,  Weeks  running  down  to 
meet  it.  The  man  beside  the  driver  dropped 
back  into  the  wagon  box  and  raised  the  reclin- 
ing figure  ;  then  he  and  Jim  helped  him  to  the 
ground. 

In  spite  of  the  soiled  clothes,  the  matted  hair, 
and  the  bandage  across  the  forehead,  Katherine 
recognized  Harvey.  When  she  saw  that  he 
could  walk,  even  though  leaning  heavily  on  the 


Harvey  289 

others,  her  heart  bounded.  The  three  came 
slowly  up  the  steps.  Then  she  could  hear 
Jim's  voice  in  the  hall,  evidently  issuing  an 
order,  and  the  steward  slid  one  of  the  hall 
settees  into  the  room  and  piled  rugs  upon  it. 

Katherine  rose  in  some  doubt  as  they  entered. 
She  had  taken  up  two  of  the  cushions,  one  in 
each  hand,  and  stood  holding  them.  By  now 
it  was  nearing  five  o'clock.  The  sun  was  about 
setting,  and  while  outdoors  it  was  still  light,  the 
long  low  room  was  already  dim  with  approach- 
ing evening,  so  that  not  until  he  was  close  at 
hand  could  she  see  Harvey  distinctly.  But 
when  she  did  distinguish  the  pale  face  and  the 
weary  eyes,  her  hesitation  vanished  and  she 
hastened  to  lay  the  cushions  on  the  settee. 
Harvey  evidently  had  not  observed  her,  for  he 
suddenly  drew  back. 

"  Really,  Miss  Porter,  I'm  not  such  an  invalid 
as  these  people  are  trying  to  make  out.  I  don't 
need  to  lie  down."  He  laughed  slightly  as  Jim 
drew  him  forward.  "  It's  just  a  little  stiffness. 
See  here — "  he  broke  away  from  his  helpers 
and  walked  somewhat  uncertainly  to  the  settee, 
sitting  on  the  edge.  "  What's  the  matter  with 
that?" 


2QO  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Lie  down,  West,"  said  Jim,  quietly.  Kath- 
erine  glanced  at  him  quickly.  It  was  a  per- 
emptory order,  but  delivered  in  a  quiet  friendly 
tone  whose  calm  assertiveness  admitted  of  no 
debate.  With  an  impatient  gesture  Harvey 
obeyed.  Indeed,  as  Katherine  looked  almost 
shyly  at  this  big,  self-contained  man  she  won- 
dered if  it  would  be  possible  to  disobey  him. 
And  with  the  sudden  realization  of  his  secure 
authority  came  a  wave  of  pity  for  her  own 
father,  the  man  who  had  thrown  himself  against 
this  human  rock  and  who  was  suffering  for  it. 
She  turned  away  an  instant  for  fear  that  her 
face  would  reveal  her  emotion. 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  looking  at  his  watch,  "by 
starting  now  I  can  catch  the  early  train  to  Chi- 
cago. Be  careful,  West;  there's  no  hurry. 
I'll  wire  you  in  the  morning  if  there  is  anything 
important.  Miss  Porter,  may  I  ask  you  to  see 
that  the  steward  takes  care  of  Mr.  West  ?  I'll 
send  a  doctor  out.  I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  — 
there's  no  one  else." 

Katherine  inclined  her  head.  And  then  she 
realized  that  Harvey  and  she  were  alone. 

"  Won't  you  draw  up  a  chair  ?  "  said  Harvey. 
"  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I'm  glad  you're  here. 


Harvey  291 

It's  an  awful  bore  to  be  alone  when  you're  this 
way." 

His  attempt  at  an  easy  manner  gave  Kather- 
ine  a  sense  of  relief.  She  sat  beside  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  are  hurt.  How  did  it  hap- 
pen ? " 

"  I  think  I  fell  off  a  fence.  Wonder  if  I  lost 
my  handkerchief  ?"  He  thrust  his  hand  into 
his  pocket,  and  drew  out  a  revolver,  clasping 
it  by  the  barrel.  "  That's  funny.  I  don't  re- 
member—  oh,  yes."  He  stuffed  it  back  into 
his  pocket 

"  What  is  it  ?    Tell  me  about  it." 

Harvey  looked  thoughtfully  at  her.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  that  to  let  her  know  of  McNally's 
actions,  which  presumably  were  instigated  by 
Porter  himself,  would  be  bringing  matters  too 
close  home. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  it's  rather  a  disagreeable 
story.  If  you  were  a  good  nurse  you  would  try 
to  make  me  forget  it.  I'm  glad  you  are  here  — 
very  glad.  How  did  you  happen  to  come  ?  " 

"  I  often  drive  out.  It  is  growing  dark.  I 
must  think  about  getting  back." 

"No,"  said  Harvey,  quickly,  "don't  go.  I 
don't  want  you  to  go.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 


292  The  Short  Line  War 

His  voice  dropped  as  he  spoke,  and  both  sud- 
denly became  conscious  of  a  change  that  had 
come  over  them,  between  them.  Katherine  sat 
still,  turning  her  head  toward  the  window,  and 
though  she  could  not  see  him  she  knew  that 
Harvey  was  looking  at  her.  The  room  was 
darker  now. 

"  Have  you  thought  how  odd  this  is,"  Harvey 
went  on,  "  this  conversation  ?  We  are  talking 
just  as  though  nothing  had  happened,  just  as 
though  we  were  the  same  people  who  —  who 
bought  things  at  Field's ;  but  we  aren't.  There's 
no  use  in  thinking  we  are."  He  paused  to 
raise  himself  on  his  elbow.  "  Do  you  know  it 
is  just  twelve  days  since  we  were  here  ? " 

Katherine  laughed  a  little. 

"  You  have  counted  them  ? " 

"  Yes.  Last  night  when  I  was  coming  down 
on  the  special  I  thought  about  it  —  you  know 
it  seems  longer,  it  seems  a  year  ago.  You 
remember  we  talked  about  the  M.  &  T.  And 
the  next  day  when  you  drove  me  to  the  station 
—  do  you  remember?  I've  wondered  since 
then,  a  good  many  times,  what  you  meant, 
whether  you  really  wanted  to  see  us  win." 
She  started  to  speak,  but  he  broke  in:  "If  I 
dared  think  so  —  " 


Harvey  293 

"You  think  I  am  weak/' 

"No,  if  you  really  want  to  know  what  I 
think  —  I  think  you  are  the  strongest  girl  I 
ever  knew.  Katherine,"  —  he  reached  impul- 
sively for  her  hand,  but  she  drew  it  away,  —  "I 
think  you  are  —  well,  I  might  as  well  say  it,  you 
probably  know  it  anyhow.  I  love  you.  I  — 
I  don't  know  that  there  is  anything  else  to  say." 

Katherine  leaned  back  and  looked  at  him. 
Her  back  was  toward  the  window,  and  he  could 
see  only  the  outline  of  her  head. 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  she  asked  slowly. 

"You  mean  —  you  think  I'm  not  well,  that 
I  haven't  control  of  myself — I  do  love  you, 
Katherine,  so  much  that  I  can't  get  along  with- 
out you.  You  believe  me,  don't  you  ?  You 
must  believe  me  !  " 

"  Yes,"  very  slowly,  "  I  believe  you." 

"Then  —  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I'm  afraid  I 
—  Oh,  don't  say  any  more!  It  isn't  right." 
She  rose  suddenly  as  if  to  move  away,  but  Har- 
vey caught  her  dress  and  then  her  hand. 

"  Katherine,  you  aren't  going  to  leave  me 
this  way.  Perhaps  you  don't  want  me,  perhaps 
I  have  been  mistaken  and  foolish,  but  I  love 
you,  and  that  ought  to  count  for  something." 


294  The  Short  Line   War 

"  It  does  —  you  don't  understand  —  "  She 
looked  out  the  window  for  a  moment :  the  first 
low-lying  stars  were  out.  "  Don't  you  suppose," 
she  said  at  last,  in  a  labored  voice,  "  that  I  have 
feelings  ?  Don't  you  suppose  that  I  —  I  don't 
mean  that,  either.  You  have  been  fighting  my 
father  —  I  have  helped  you.  I  have  helped  you 
to  injure  him,  my  own  father.  He  is  sick  now, 
and  I  left  him  to-day,  because  — "  Harvey's 
grasp  tightened.  "  I  have  been  disloyal  to  him, 
I  have  been  dishonest  —  and  that  counts  for 
something,  too.  No  —  we  have  been  good 
friends,  we  can  still  be  good  friends.  Perhaps, 
if  it  had  been  different  —  but  it  wasn't." 

"  You  don't  mean  this,  Katherine." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  and  stood  erect, 
dignified  now  and  calm. 

"I  am  going  home.  I  know  that  you  love 
me,  and  I  know  that  you  will  not  hurt  me 
any  longer ;  for  it  does  hurt  me,  I  will  tell  you 
that." 

" But  I  shall  see  you—  "  With  an  effort,  he 
raised  himself  to  his  feet  and  stood,  weak  and 
giddy,  leaning  on  the  back  of  the  chair.  "I 
won't  give  you  up  !  " 

"  Lie  down.     You  mustn't  tire  yourself.     We 


Harvey  295 

don't  know  what  may  happen,"  she  steadied 
his  arm  as  he  sat  down  on  the  couch;  "we 
only  know  what  is  right  for  us  now.  Good-by. 
I  will  speak  to  the  steward." 

With  throbbing  head  Harvey  sank  back  on 
the  cushions.  A  few  moments  later  the  doctor 
came  in. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   TILLMAN    CITY   STOCK 

THE  Governor  was  a  familiar  figure  in 
Chicago,  and  his  presence  in  a  hotel  lobby 
ordinarily  excited  no  more  than  a  glance  of 
curious  interest  from  the  loungers  about  the 
news  stand.  The  sensation  he  caused,  when  he 
entered  the  office  of  the  Great  Northern  on 
Friday  afternoon,  was  due  to  the  company  he 
brought  with  him ;  for  on  one  side  walked  a 
pale,  nervous,  careworn  man,  who  was  hardly 
recognizable  as  the  dapper,  self-contained  Will- 
iam C.  Porter,  and  on  the  other,  burly  as  ever, 
and,  though  grave,  confident  as  ever,  was  Jim 
Weeks. 

A  man  who  was  registering  at  the  desk 
watched  them  as  they  stepped  into  an  elevator, 
and  then  said  to  the  clerk  :  — 

"  Have  you  got  your  furniture  well  insured  ? 
Because  you  can  bet  your  life  the  fur  will  begin 
to  fly  in  a  few  minutes." 
296 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  297 

But  the  conference,  which  any  reporter  in 
Chicago  would  have  given  his  ears  to  hear,  was 
a  quiet  one.  The  Governor  dominated  the  sit- 
uation, and  at  the  very  outset  he  made  this 
clear.  In  his  dealings  with  the  Intelligent 
Voter  he  was  wont  to  call  a  spade  by  many 
high-sounding  names,  but  when  he  chose  he 
could  call  it  a  spade,  and  he  did  choose  so  to 
do  this  afternoon. 

The  road,  he  said,  was  for  the  present  in  the 
hands  of  the  State.  Every  station  was  guarded 
by  a  detail  of  State  troops  who  had  instruc- 
tions to  pay  no  attention  to  any  writs  from  any 
court  whatever.  In  every  case  they  were  to 
respect  actual  possession,  and  to  allow  the  rou- 
tine work  of  running  the  road  to  be  carried  on 
by  the  men  they  found  in  charge.  This  state 
of  things  would  continue  until  the  Governor  was 
fully  convinced  that  there  would  be  no  further 
attempt  by  either  party  to  obtain  possession  of 
the  road  by  force. 

The  Governor  went  on  to  point  out  that  a 
continuation  of  this  arrangement  was  against 
the  interest  of  both  parties,  as  it  brought  the 
affairs  of  the  road  into  unpleasant  prominence, 
and  every  added  day  of  it  antagonized  the  peo- 


298  The  Short  Line   War 

pie  more,  and  might  eventually  lead  to  some 
rather  drastic  legislation  which  would  hurt  every 
road  in  the  State. 

The  courts  would  of  course  settle  the  ques- 
tion of  possession  in  time,  but  meanwhile  some 
sort  of  an  understanding  must  be  reached. 
The  Governor  proposed  as  a  solution  of  the 
difficulty  that  the  two  men  should  jointly  sign 
a  paper  he  had  drawn  up. 

It  was  a  petition  addressed  to  the  Governor 
himself,  asking  him  to  appoint  one  or  more  men 
to  act  as  receivers  of  the  road  until  the  suits 
should  be  settled  by  the  regular  process  of  law. 
The  men  to  be  appointed  were  to  be  allies  of 
neither  party  in  the  fight.  Both  parties  agreed 
to  refrain  from  any  further  attempts  to  use 
force  in  getting  possession  of  the  road. 

Weeks  readily,  and  Porter  after  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  signed  the  paper,  and  the  Governor 
announced  that  his  appointment  would  be  made 
immediately. 

It  was  then  arranged  that  the  regular  annual 
election  of  directors,  which  was  due  on  the  fol- 
lowing Tuesday,  should  be  held  as  usual.  After 
the  legal  questions  were  settled,  the  Governor's 
commission  would  turn  over  the  road  to  the 
newly  elected  board. 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  299 

When  the  conference  was  over,  and  it  had 
not  been  a  long  one,  the  two  warring  railway 
magnates,  who  in  the  past  week  had  set  the 
whole  State  by  the  ears,  rose  and  politely  took 
their  leave.  As  they  went  down  in  the  elevator 
together,  Weeks  remarked,  — 

"  Autumn  seems  to  have  taken  hold  early  this 
year." 

"Yes/1  answered  Porter,  "it's  extremely  dis- 
agreeable weather.  I  have  my  carriage  here. 
May  I  save  you  a  walk  ? " 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Jim;  "I'm  not  going 
far." 

When  they  parted  at  the  door  they  did  not 
shake  hands,  but  there  was  nothing  in  their 
manner  to  indicate  that  they  had  not  just  met 
for  the  first  time  at  an  afternoon  tea. 

Jim  went  straight  to  his  office,  told  Pease 
that  he  must  not  be  disturbed,  and  settled  him- 
self to  some  hard  thinking.  That  afternoon 
had  materially  changed  the  situation,  and  had 
for  the  most  part  simplified  it.  There  was  no 
further  necessity  for  guarding  against  force. 
There  was  no  longer  anything  to  be  appre- 
hended from  the  legal  juggling  of  Judge  Black, 
for  the  Governor's  interposition  had  rendered 


300  The  Short  Line  War 

him  quite  harmless.  When  the  case  was  tried 
it  would  be  before  an  unprejudiced  court.  The 
seizure  of  the  road  by  the  militia  had  come  at  the 
right  moment  for  Jim,  for  it  left  his  employees 
in  possession  as  far  down  as  Sawyerville. 

The  longer  Jim  thought,  the  simpler  the  prob- 
lem became.  He  must  bring  about  the  election 
of  his  board  of  directors.  As  matters  stood  he 
could  accomplish  this  only  by  voting  the  nine 
thousand  shares  of  new  stock  he  had  issued  the 
week  before,  thus  giving  Porter  a  more  or  less 
strong  case  against  him.  But  if  he  could  com- 
mand a  majority  of  the  stock  without  this,  there 
would  be  absolutely  nothing  for  the  courts  to 
decide,  and  Tuesday  evening  would  see  him 
completely  victorious.  And  so,  for  the  first 
time  that  week,  Jim  turned  the  whole  force  of 
his  attention  to  the  Tillman  City  stock. 

It  was  just  ten  days  since  he  had  instructed 
Bridge  to  find  out  what  was  at  the  bottom  of 
Blaney's  defiance,  and  in  that  time  he  had  heard 
no  word  from  his  lieutenant.  There  were  but 
three  days  more. 

If  it  were  his  habit  to  act  on  impulse,  as  his 
wonderful  quickness  led  men  to  believe,  he 
would  have  gone  straight  to  Tillman  City,  and 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  301 

carried  on  his  fight  there  in  person.  But  on 
reflection  he  concluded  that  his  presence  there 
would  be  likely  to  ruin  whatever  schemes 
Bridge  might  be  working  out.  "  I'll  wait  a  little 
longer,"  he  thought. 

Bridge  was  in  the  hospital.  His  landlady 
had  found  him  in  his  room  about  an  hour 
after  the  fever  overtook  him,  and  visions  of  a 
red  quarantine  card  on  her  door-post  had  such 
disquieting  force  that  in  an  incredibly  short 
time  the  doctor  and  the  oldest  boarder  were 
carrying  the  unconscious  politician  wrapped  in 
a  pair  of  blankets  to  the  carriage  which  was  to 
take  him  thither. 

Tillman  City  was  proud  of  its  hospital,  and 
the  nursing  and  the  medical  attention  which 
Bridge  received  were  as  good  as  they  could 
have  been.  But  after  all  it  seemed  to  make 
little  difference,  for  the  fever  raged  in  him 
in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  break  it.  He  lay, 
utterly  insensible  to  his  surroundings,  the  ob- 
ject of  the  curiosity,  as  well  as  the  kindness, 
of  those  about  him ;  for  scarlet  fever  in  a  man, 
especially  so  severe  a  case,  is  enough  out  of 
the  ordinary  to  be  interesting.  Sometimes  his 


302  The  Short  Line   War 

delirium  became  so  violent  that  men  had  to 
hold  him  down  to  the  bed,  but  for  the  most  of 
the  time  he  simply  rolled  and  tossed,  moaning 
softly  or  chattering  unintelligible  syllables. 

Wednesday  evening  his  fever  was  slightly 
lower  and  he  lay  comparatively  quiet.  Sitting 
by  the  screen  which  kept  the  light  of  the  night 
lamp  from  his  eyes  was  Grace  Burns.  She  had 
been  a  nurse  only  a  little  while,  and  to  her 
Bridge  was  not  a  case  but  a  man.  She  felt  a 
great  pity  for  the  pathetic  figure  on  the  bed 
and,  when  she  saw  that  it  was  good  for  him  to 
have  her  by,  she  spent  more  than  half  the 
hours  of  the  twenty-four  watching  him.  She 
was  a  young  woman,  not  yet  thirty,  and  she 
had  the  poise  which  comes  from  nerves  that 
are  never  out  of  tune.  Some  of  her  nervous 
strength  she  seemed  to  impart  to  him,  and  he 
was  rarely  violent  while  under  her  care. 

Now  as  she  watched  him  she  saw  him  throw 
back  the  covers  and  sit  up  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed.  The  movement  was  so  quick  that  before 
she  could  reach  him  he  was  struggling  to  his  feet. 

"The  contract,"  he  said.  "  I  must  take  it  to 
him  right  away."  His  voice  and  his  inflection 
were  perfectly  natural. 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  303 

"Yes,"  she  said  easily,  "I'll  attend  to  that 
There's  plenty  of  time.  Now  lie  down  again." 

He  looked  at  her  in  a  puzzled,  questioning 
way,  but  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  moments  his 
moaning  told  her  that  the  dull  fever  dreams  had 
again  come  upon  him. 

When  the  doctor  came  to  make  his  last  visit 
before  the  night,  he  looked  grave. 

"  Has  he  had  any  lucid  intervals  ? "  he  asked. 

She  told  him  what  had  happened  earlier  in 
the  evening. 

"  It's  hard  to  tell,"  he  said,  "whether  that  was 
dreams  or  not." 

As  he  started  to  go,  she  asked,  — 

"  Did  they  tell  you  downstairs  that  some  one 
had  been  here  to  see  him  ? " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  He  came  while  I  was  down  in  the  office, 
and  they  said  he  had  been  here  two  or  three 
times  before.  He  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Bridge, 
he  said,  on  a  very  important  business  matter." 

The  doctor  smiled.  "I'm  afraid,"  he  said, 
"that  business  will  be  indefinitely  postponed. 
Who  was  the  man?" 

"He's  one  of  our  aldermen,  Michael 
Blaney." 


304  The  Short  Line  War 

They  were  startled  by  a  cry  from  the  bed. 
Bridge  was  sitting  bolt  upright,  and  terror  was 
in  his  face. 

"  Stop  him,  Weeks  ! "  he  gasped.  "  He's  try- 
ing to  choke  me.  Pull  him  off.  You  said  he 
shouldn't  touch  me.J> 

The  voice  died  away  in  a  moan,  and  he  sank 
back  in  the  pillows,  breathing  thickly.  The 
nurse  slipped  quickly  to  his  side,  clasped  his 
wrist  in  her  cool  hand,  and  laid  the  other  on 
his  forehead,  and  in  a  few  moments  his  breath 
was  coming  more  regularly  and  the  mad  light 
was  gone  out  of  his  eyes. 

The  doctor  looked  on  admiringly.  "You'll 
pull  him  out  of  this  if  anybody  can,"  he  said. 
"  It's  strange  he's  got  this  Weeks  business  in 
his  head.  He  hasn't  known  anything  since  Sua- 
day  night,  and  there  wasn't  much  about  it  in 
the  papers  up  to  that  time." 

There  was  a  silence  while  the  doctor,  after  a 
long  look  at  his  patient,  turned  and  walked  to 
the  door.  When  he  reached  it  he  said :  — 

"  There's  something  beside  scarlet  fever  that 
keeps  up  that  delirium,  I  believe ;  something  on 
his  mind.  I'd  watch  what  he  says  pretty  care- 
fully, if  I  were  you.  He  may  give  you  a  clew  to 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  305 

what's  bothering  him.  Then  perhaps  we  can 
bring  him  around.  Good  night." 

Grace  Burns  was  not  in  the  habit  of  reading 
the  papers,  for  her  activities,  her  sympathies, 
and  her  thoughts  were  pretty  well  absorbed 
without  them,  but  on  Thursday  morning  she 
read  with  eager  interest  the  account  of  the  fight 
for  the  M.  &  T.  railroad.  She  also  read  an 
editorial  on  Jim  Weeks,  and  then  found  out  all 
she  could  from  the  newspapers  of  the  two  days 
previous.  When  she  had  finished,  she  aban- 
doned a  half -formed  project  of  the  night  before 
to  write  to  Weeks  and  explain  the  situation  to 
him  on  the  chance  of  his  being  of  assistance. 
She  saw  on  what  a  large  scale  this  man  did 
things  and  concluded  that  it  was  unlikely  that 
he  had  any  connection  with  Bridge's  affairs,  if, 
indeed,  he  had  ever  heard  of  him.  He  would 
be  too  busy  to  pay  much  attention  to  anything 
she  might  write. 

All  day  long  she  listened  to  the  sick  man's 
continuous  talk,  hoping  that  some  meaning 
would  transpire  through  the  incoherent  sen- 
tences, something  that  would  guide  her  to  the 
source  of  his  trouble ;  but  her  patience  had 
little  reward.  He  spoke  vaguely  of  a  contract 


306  The  Short  Line   War 

once  or  twice,  and  as  many  times  he  mentioned 
the  name  of  Jim  Weeks,  and  at  those  times  she 
thought  of  her  plan  again ;  mentally  she  would 
begin  framing  the  note  she  would  write  to  the 
great  capitalist.  But  as  often  as  she  did  this 
she  realized  that  she  had  nothing  to  say  to  him, 
and  with  a  sigh  she  put  the  thought  away  to 
wait  at  least  until  she  could  find  out  something 
more  definite. 

The  next  morning,  Friday,  she  read  in  the 
papers  of  the  dramatic  happenings  of  the  day 
before  and  of  Jim  Weeks's  going  to  Chicago, 
presumably  for  a  conference  with  the  Governor. 
The  bigness  of  it  appalled  her  a  little,  and  again 
the  courage  she  had  been  storing  up  over  night 
to  write  the  note  oozed  away.  For  after  all  it 
was  a  question  of  courage,  courage  to  do  some- 
thing which  common  sense  called  absurd  on  the 
bare  chance  that  it  might  do  good. 

The  day  was  a  repetition  of  the  day  before, 
but  late  in  the  afternoon  the  persistent  thought, 
"it  might  do  some  good,"  drove  her  to  write  to 
Jim  Weeks.  The  note  read  :  — 

"  Mr.  Bridge  [she  did  not  know  his  initials]  is 
dangerously  sick  here  in  the  hospital.  He  has 
been  delirious  ever  since  he  was  brought  here, 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  307 

and  has  frequently  called  for  you,  sometimes  as 
if  he  wanted  to  tell  you  something,  and  at  others 
as  if  he  desired  your  protection.  I  write  in  the 
hope  that  you  will  be  able  either  to  come  or  to 
suggest  some  clew  to  his  delusions  which  may 
enable  us  to  remove  them." 

It  was  mailed  that  evening  and  reached  Jim 
about  noon  Saturday.  Not  half  an  hour  after- 
ward she  received  a  telegram  which  took  a  load 
off  her  mind :  — 

Shall  reach  Tillman  at  eight  this  evening  and  will  drive 
direct  to  the  hospital.  Please  arrange  it  so  I  can  see 
him  immediately  after  I  arrive  there. 

She  was  in  the  sick  room  watching,  when  Jim 
was  shown  in.  He  walked  directly  to  the  bed 
and  stood  looking  down  at  Bridge  for  a  moment, 
and  then  spoke  to  Grace  Burns. 

"  Has  he  any  chance  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"It's  scarlet  fever.  The  doctor  doesn't  seem 
to  think  there's  much  hope." 

"  Poor  devil,"  said  Jim  under  his  breath. 

The  nurse  suddenly  bent  forward  over  the  sick 
man,  and  motioned  Jim  to  silence.  Bridge's  lips 
were  moving  and  he  seemed  to  be  struggling  to 
speak. 


308  The  Short  Line   War 

"  Yes,  he's  here/1  said  the  nurse  in  answer  to 
the  half-heard  question. 

Jim  dropped  on  one  knee  beside  the  bed. 
"  Yes,  I'm  Jim  Weeks,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  want 
to  tell  me  anything?" 

Again  it  was  the  nurse's  ear  that  caught  the 
words,  "My  coat — in  the  pocket  —  the  con- 
tract." 

"  I'll  get  it,"  she  said  quickly,  and  in  a  moment 
she  had  come  back  into  the  room,  with  the  coat 
Bridge  had  worn  when  they  brought  him  to  the 
hospital. 

Jim  took  the  coat,  took  a  handful  of  papers 
out  of  the  pockets  and  glanced  over  them.  A 
scrawled  and  crumpled  sheet  caught  his  eye,  and 
straightening  it  out  he  read  it  carefully,  holding 
it  close  to  the  dim  night  lamp.  He  stood  erect 
again,  staring  intently  at  the  grotesque  shadows 
on  the  screen.  Grace  Burns,  who  was  watching 
him,  saw  that  for  the  moment  Bridge  was  for- 
gotten. 

But  presently  his  face  softened  and  a  smile 
came  into  his  eyes.  Again  he  went  to  the  bed- 
side and  dropped  on  one  knee.  He  spoke  softly, 
but  there  was  a  restrained  ring  in  his  voice. 

"You've   saved   us,  Bridge;  can  you  under- 


The  Tillman  City  Stock  309 

stand  me  ?  We're  going  to  win  out.  You  were 
in  time." 

He  took  the  thin  hand  that  lay  on  the  cover- 
let and  it  clasped  his  convulsively.  He  looked 
curiously  at  the  sick  man,  and  then  as  the  weak 
grip  was  not  relaxed  he  sat  down  on  the  side  of 
the  bed  and  waited.  Five  minutes  crept  away, 
and  another  five,  and  then  the  slow  easy  breath- 
ing told  them  that  Bridge  was  asleep. 

As  the  hand  let  go  of  his,  Weeks  rose  to  go. 
The  nurse  followed  him  to  the  door,  where  she 
said  simply :  — 

"Thank  you  for  coming.     It  saved  his  life." 

"Then  it  was  you  who  saved  it,"  said  Jim. 
"  And  you  saved  me,  too.  I  won't  forget  it" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   WINNING   OF   THE   ROAD 

THE  Chicago  papers  reach  Tillman  City  by 
nine  o'clock  every  morning,  and  the  inhabitants 
wait  till  then  for  information  from  the  outside 
world.  At  supper  time  they  read  fragmentary 
Associated  Press  despatches  and  a  more  or  less 
accurate  chronicle  of  local  happenings  in  The 
Watchman.  Since  the  coming  of  the  new 
editor,  Tillman's  one  daily  had  contrived  to 
worry  along  without  the  assistance  of  a  patent 
inside,  for  he  was  an  ambitious  young  fellow 
with  a  knack  for  writing  snappy  editorials,  and 
he  made  the  most  of  the  meagre  news  the  city 
furnished. 

He  did  not  hear  of  Jim's  arrival  in  town  and 
his  drive  to  the  hospital  until  next  morning. 
When  told  of  it,  he  laid  down  his  pipe  and 
began  slipping  on  his  coat. 

"  I  suppose  he's  in  town  yet,"  he  said  to  the 
reporter  who  had  brought  the  news.  "  If  he  is, 
310 


The   Winning  of  the  Road  311 

I'm  going  to  see  him ;  then  I  can  make  some- 
thing out  of  what  he  might  have  said.  He's 
the  kind  that  makes  me  mad.  He's  got  as 
good  a  story  inside  him  as  any  man  in  the 
United  States  this  morning,  but  it  would  take  a 
chemical  process  to  get  it  out  of  him." 

Jim  was  in  his  room  at  the  Hotel  Tremain,  try- 
ing to  decide  upon  the  best  way  to  bring  Blaney 
to  terms.  The  most  direct  course  would  be  to  go 
to  Blaney  and  try  to  convince  him  of  the  worth- 
lessness  of  McNally's  contract.  Blaney  was 
badly  scared  already :  that  was  evident  enough 
in  his  manner  during  the  interview  Jim  had  had 
with  him  on  the  artesian  road.  The  two  weeks 
of  suspense,  during  which  time  it  was  clear  that 
Jim  was  winning,  would  not  tend  to  increase 
Blaney's  confidence.  It  would  not  take  much 
of  a  bluff  to  complete  his  demoralization. 

But  the  difficulty  lay  in  the  manner  of  ap- 
proach. To  make  the  bluff  most  effective, 
Blaney  should  be  frightened  into  seeking  Jim. 
If  he  went  to  Blaney's  house,  the  contractor 
would  probably  suspect  that  some  weakness  in 
Jim's  position  made  him  depend  on  Blaney's 
aid.  Jim  was  not  worrying  over  the  problem  as 
other  men  worry,  for  he  had  been  quite  sincere 


312  The  Short  Line   War 

in  telling  Bridge  that  they  were  sure  to  win. 
Years  of  this  kind  of  fighting  had  given  him  a 
just  estimate  of  the  immense  value  of  time,  and 
he  had  forty-eight  hours  left  in  which  to  get  con- 
trol of  the  Tillman  City  stock.  Campaigns  have 
been  lost  and  won  again  in  less  time  than  that. 

When  the  bell-boy  brought  up  the  editor's 
card  Jim  stared  at  it  a  moment,  then  told  the 
boy  to  show  him  in.  Had  the  boy  looked  up 
he  would  have  seen  that  Jim  was  smiling.  His 
plan  had  come  to  him. 

When  the  editor  came  into  the  room  he  found 
Jim  lounging  in  a  big  chair  with  his  feet  on  an- 
other, bent  apparently  on  spending  the  morn- 
ing in  luxurious  idleness.  Jim  did  not  rise  but 
greeted  him  cheerfully,  and  the  editor  took  the 
chair  Jim  nodded  to  and  accepted  the  cigar  Jim 
offered  him.  This  was  the  beginning  of  what 
the  editor  afterward  spoke  of  as  his  trance. 

For  there  sat  Jim  Weeks,  the  wary,  the  close- 
mouthed,  the  reporter's  despair,  artlessly  telling 
the  whole  inside  history  of  the  fight  for  the 
M.  &  T.  At  first  the  editor  hardly  dared 
to  breathe  for  fear  of  bringing  Jim  to  his 
senses  and  the  story  to  a  premature  conclusion ; 
but  as  the  President  talked  apparently  in  his 


The   Winning  of  the  Road  313 

right  mind,  the  editor  became  bolder  and  began 
asking  questions.  In  answering,  Jim  told  him 
that  the  fight  was  practically  over.  It  would 
formally  be  decided  on  Tuesday  at  the  stock- 
holders' meeting ;  but  as  Jim  and  his  allies  con- 
trolled a  majority  of  the  stock,  the  outcome  was 
certain. 

Then  having  cleared  away  the  preliminaries 
Jim  came  to  the  point.  "  Your  finance  com- 
mittee here  in  Tillman  is  going  to  vote  your 
stock  against  us,  though,"  he  said.  "Porter 
has  pulled  their  leg  with  a  fake  contract,  and 
they're  just  about  big  enough  fools  to  be  caught 
by  that  sort  of  a  game.  I've  known  about  it 
for  some  time,  and  I  might  have  done  some- 
thing if  we  hadn't  stood  to  win  anyway.  As 
it  is  they  can't  beat  us,  no  matter  how  they 
vote." 

There  were  more  questions  and  more  per- 
fectly frank  answers,  and  at  last  the  editor 
knew  practically  all  there  was  to  know  about 
the  dealings  of  the  wily  Mr.  Blaney.  Jim  did 
not  seem  to  take  the  contract  very  seriously, 
but  he  was  evidently  perfectly  familiar  with 
its  provisions.  When  the  editor  rose  to  go  his 
head  was  fairly  awhirl. 


314  The  Short  Line   War 

"Mr.  Weeks,"  he  asked,  "have  you  given 
this  story  to  any  one  else?" 

"  No,"  said  Jim. 

"We  don't  come  out  till  to-morrow  after- 
noon," said  the  editor.  "We  haven't  a  Sunday 
edition.  Will  the  story  be  any  good  by  that  time? " 

"  That's  as  you  think,"  said  Jim.  "  I  shan't 
give  it  to  any  one  else." 

The  bewildered  editor  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing,  and  Jim  packed  his  bag  and  started 
for  Chicago.  He  had  planted  his  mine  under 
Blaney  and  he  could  do  nothing  more  with 
him  until  the  time  for  exploding  it.  Jim 
was  satisfied  with  his  plan.  The  story  which 
The  Watchman  was  to  print  the  next  afternoon 
was  almost  sure  to  scare  Blaney  into  submission. 
True,  the  time  was  short  between  the  issue 
of  the  paper  and  the  stockholders'  meeting, 
but  this  fact  was  after  all  rather  to  Jim's 
advantage  than  otherwise.  The  only  element 
of  uncertainty  in  Jim's  success  lay  in  the  pos- 
sible countermove  which  McNally  might  make 
to  reassure  Blaney.  The  chances  were,  Jim 
thought,  that  McNally  would* not  hear  of  the 
story  in  The  Watchman  until  Tuesday  morning. 

Jim  reached  Chicago  late  Sunday  afternoon. 


The   Winning  of  the  Road  315 

On  Monday  he  and  Harvey  were  back  in  the 
office  working  on  other  matters.  Not  until 
Tuesday  morning  did  Jim  start  for  Manchester, 
where  the  stockholders1  meeting  was  to  be  held 
that  afternoon. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Jim  walked  into  the  lobby 
of  the  Illinois  House,  lighted  a  cigar  at  the 
news  stand,  nodded  familiarly  to  the  clerk,  and 
passed  on  into  the  writing  room.  The  clerk 
said  to  a  bell-boy,  — 

"  Go  into  the  bar  and  tell  Mr.  Blaney  that 
Jim  Weeks  is  here." 

Blaney  had  been  waiting  for  that  message 
for  the  past  hour,  for  he  had  told  the  clerk  to 
let  him  know  as  soon  as  Jim  should  arrive, 
and  he  had  expected  him  earlier ;  but  now  he 
only  swore  savagely  at  the  bell-boy,  and 
ordered  another  whiskey.  It  was  the  last  of 
a  long  series  of  bracers,  and  it  did  its  work 
a  little  too  well. 

With  soldierly  erectness  he  walked  out  of  the 
bar,  across  the  lobby,  and  into  the  writing  room. 
Jim  was  writing  at  a  desk  and  did  not  look  up 
as  Blaney  entered,  so  the  contractor  went  round 
behind  him  and  dropped  his  hand  heavily  on 
Jim's  shoulder. 


3i6  The  Short  Line   War 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said  fiercely. 

Jim  looked  up  as  if  to  see  ^who  it  was,  and 
then  turned  back  to  his  writing. 

"  Well,  talk  away,"  he  said. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  in  private,"  said  Blaney, 
excited  to  rage  by  Jim's  indifference. 

Jim  affected  to  consider  for  a  moment ;  then 
he  rose  and  led  the  way  to  the  office,  where  he 
told  the  clerk  that  he  wanted  a  room  for  an 
hour  or  so,  and  that  on  no  account  must  he  be 
disturbed. 

The  two  men  climbed  to  the  room  in  silence. 
When  they  reached  it,  Jim  followed  Blaney  in, 
locked  the  door  behind  him,  and  put  the  key  in 
his  pocket.  The  action  made  Blaney  nervous, 
and  the  warmth  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach  was 
beginning  to  be  succeeded  by  something  that 
felt  like  a  large  lump  of  cold  lead. 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "we're  private  enough 
how.  What  have  you  got  to  say?" 

Blaney  pumped  up  all  the  bluster  he  could. 

"All  I  want  to  find  out  is,  who  wrote  that 
story  in  The  Watchman." 

"  That's  all,  is  it  ?  "  said  Jim.  "  I  could  have 
told  you  that  downstairs.  I  wrote  it." 

Then  Blaney  broke  loose.     He  was  working 


The    Winning  of  the  Road  317 

himself  up  to  a  perfect  frenzy  of  denials,  accusa- 
tions, threats,  and  blasphemy.  The  man  was  a 
pitiable  spectacle,  and  Jim,  leaning  back  against 
the  locked  door,  watched  him  in  mingled  amuse- 
ment and  contempt.  He  was  surprised  that 
Blaney  should  have  become  so  utterly  demoral- 
ized. He  had  never  considered  the  contractor 
a  big  man,  or  even  a  good  fighter,  but  that  he 
would  go  to  pieces  so  easily  was  unexpected. 
He  did  not  know  how  violent  the  explosion  in 
Tillman  had  been.  The  town  sided  with  Jim 
Weeks,  and  when  the  people  realized  how  he 
was  to  be  sold  out,  the  storm  exceeded  the 
editor's  wildest  expectations,  and  Blaney  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  political  ruin. 

Jim  let  the  almost  hysterical  rage  expend 
itself  before  he  interrupted.  Then  he  said  :  — 

"Shut  up,  Blaney.  You've  made  a  fool  of 
yourself  long  enough.  And  I've  fooled  with 
you  long  enough.  You've  been  trying  ever 
since  you  were  alderman  to  throw  me  down. 
You've  talked  about  how  much  you  were  going 
to  do,  and  all  the  while  we've  been  laughing  at 
you.  Then  this  McNally  came  along  and  set 
up  you  and  Williams  to  a  dinner  at  the  Hotel 
Tremain  and  paid  you  some  money  and  gave 


3i8  The  Short  Line   War 

you  this  fool  contract,  to  get  you  to  vote  the 
Tillman  City  proxies  his  way." 

Jim  took  a  copy  of  the  contract  out  of  his 
pocket  and  read  it  aloud,  while  Blaney  listened 
in  stupid  amazement.  "  McNally  is  a  smart 
man,"  Jim  went  on,  folding  the  contract  and 
replacing  it,  "and  he  sized  you  up  just  about 
right  when  he  figured  he  could  take  you  in  with 
a  fake  like  this,  that  isn't  worth  the  paper  it  is 
written  on.  And  when  you'd  got  fooled  so  you 
thought  C.  &  S.  C.  would  pay  par  for  your 
stock,  what  do  you  do  but  go  around  and  tell  a 
man  you  know  is  working  for  me  all  about  it ! 
And  now  when  I've  got  you  just  where  I  want 
you,  where  you  can  only  wriggle,  you  come 
around  and  try  to  scare  me.  Do  you  know 
what  you  are  ?  You're  just  a  plain  damn  fool." 

Blaney  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  last  words 
of  what  was  probably  the  longest  speech  Jim 
Weeks  had  ever  made.  His  attention  had  been 
riveted  on  something  else. 

"  Bridge,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Bridge  gave  that 
away,  did  he  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Jim;  "Bridge  gave  me  this  con- 
tract. There's  just  about  one  more  fool  thing 
you  can  do,  Blaney,  and  that  is  try  to  touch 


The    Winning  of  the  Road  319 

him.  Try  it !  Why,  man,  if  you  do  I'll  break 
you  to  pieces. "  The  words  had  a  ring  in  them, 
but  Jim  quieted  instantly.  "  I'm  looking  out 
for  Bridge." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Blaney  dropped 
limply  into  a  gaudy  rocking-chair  and  with  a 
dirty  handkerchief  mopped  the  sweat  out  of  his 
eyes.  Jim  had  not  moved  from  his  position 
before  the  door.  His  lips  were  grave,  but  some- 
thing in  his  eyes  suggested  that  he  was  smiling. 
It  was  Jim  who  spoke  at  last. 

"  I  don't  believe  you've  got  anything  to  say 
to  me,  and  I  haven't  much  more  to  say  to  you. 
You've  got  the  Tillman  proxies  for  five  thousand 
shares  and  you're  going  to  vote  them  in  a  couple 
of  hours.  You  can  vote  them  either  way  you 
like.  It  doesn't  make  much  difference  to  me  be- 
cause I  win  by  at  least  four  thousand  even  if  you 
go  against  me.  But  if  you  do,  you'll  find  it  hard 
work  a  year  from  now  to  get  a  city  job  laying 
bricks  in  Tillman.  I'll  guarantee  that.  If  you 
choose  to  vote  'em  my  way  that  story  in  The 
Watchman  will  fall  by  its  own  weight.  I'll 
leave  you  alone  so  long  as  you  don't  monkey 
with  Bridge." 

"  I  won't  monkey  with  Bridge,"  said  Blaney, 


320  The  Short  Line   War 

sullenly;  "but  I'll  tell  you,  you're  making  a  big 
mistake  to  take  any  stock  in  him.  He's  been 
lying  to  you.  I  never  saw  that  contract  before. 
He  came  to  me  and  tried  to  get  me  to  go  up 
against  you,  and  when  I  wouldn't  he  must  have 
got  up  that  contract  to  get  even  with  me.  That's 
what  made  me  so  mad  about  that  story  in  the 
papers." 

"  I  see,"  said  Jim,  with  unshaken  gravity. 
"Well,  there's  no  use  in  talking  any  more,  I 
guess.  We  understand  each  other."  And  with 
these  words  Jim  unlocked  the  door  and  walked 
downstairs  to  dinner. 

By  four  o'clock  it  was  all  over ;  the  road  was 
won,  and  Jim,  struggling  into  his  overcoat,  was 
reflecting  on  how  beautifully  success  succeeds. 
For  Blaney  had  not  been  the  only  one  to  change 
sides,  and  the  result  of  the  election  had  been  a 
sweeping  victory,  which  surprised  even  Jim.  The 
stampede  had  caught  Thompson  and  Wing,  and 
the  only  holdings  which  had  been  voted  against 
him  were  those  directly  represented  by  Porter. 
Porter  had  attended  the  meeting  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  his  relief  at  having  the  fight 
well  over  was  almost  strong  enough  to  make 
up  for  his  chagrin  and  disappointment  at  being 
defeated. 


The   Winning  of  the  Road  321 

He  met  Jim  at  the  door,  and  after  a  word  of 
commonplaces  he  inquired  after  Harvey. 

"  He's  getting  on  all  right,"  said  Jim.  "  He 
got  a  crack  over  the  head  that's  bothering  him 
a  little,  but  it's  nothing  serious." 

"Weeks,"  said  Porter,  abruptly,  "I  want  a 
word  with  you  about  that  affair.  That  attempt 
to  kidnap  him  was  dirty  business.  I  don't  think 
I  need  say  that  it  was  done  without  my  sanc- 
tion. The  man  who  was  responsible  for  it  is 
no  longer  in  my  employ.  Good  day." 

"That,"  mused  Jim  as  he  drove  to  the  North- 
ern Station,  "is  what  comes  of  having  a  daughter 
like  Miss  Katherine  Porter." 

Y 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   SURRENDER 

JIM  looked  up  from  a  desk  that  was  piled  high 
with  letters  and  memoranda. 

"  West,  what  do  think  of  that  ? "  he  said,  hand- 
ing a  type-written  sheet  across  to  the  other  desk. 

It  was  an  order  addressed  to  Mattison,  rein- 
stating J.  Donohue  in  the  passenger  service  of 
the  M.  &  T. 

"He  deserves  it,"  replied  Harvey,  briefly. 
"Shall  I  send  it  on?11 

"  Yes." 

Each  turned  back  to  his  work.  Such  inter- 
ruptions were  rare  now  in  Jim's  office  in  the 
Washington  Building.  For  any  man  of  wide 
and  commanding  interests  to  drop  his  routine 
even  for  a  day  or  so  means  a  busy  time  catch- 
ing up  later  on;  and  in  the  case  of  Jim,  who 
had  lost  all  told  the  better  part  of  two  weeks, 
the  accumulation  was  almost  disheartening,  par- 
ticularly to  Harvey. 

32* 


The  Surrender  323 

Although  he  had  to  come  to  Chicago  early 
Friday  morning,  spending  only  one  night  at  the 
Oakwood  Club,  it  was  not  until  Monday  that 
Harvey  was  able  to  resume  work.  In  the 
meantime  he  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  from 
Katherine.  During  that  long  night  at  the  club 
he  had  planned,  in  a  feverish,  restless  way,  to 
drive  to  her  home  in  the  morning;  but  the 
morning  saw  him  speeding  to  Chicago,  weak 
and  nerveless.  During  Friday  and  Saturday 
he  was  confined  to  his  room  by  order  of  the 
physician,  but  on  Sunday,  a  bright  day,  he 
walked  out. 

His  first  letter  to  Katherine  was  written  Sat- 
urday afternoon.  It  was  a  simple  statement, 
a  manly  plea  for  what  he  desired  more  than 
anything  else  in  the  world,  and  as  he  read  it 
over  he  felt  that  it  must  have  an  effect.  That 
it  deeply  moved  Katherine  was  shown  by  the 
reply  which  came  on  the  following  Tuesday. 
She  did  not  waste  words,  but  there  was  in 
her  little  note  an  honest  directness  that  left 
Harvey  helpless  to  reply.  She  made  no  con- 
cealment of  her  love,  though  not  stating  it, 
but  repeated  practically  what  she  had  said  that 
afternoon  at  the  club.  Again  it  was,  "We 


324  The  Short  Line   War 

must  wait — "  even  indefinitely.  Harvey  read 
the  note  many  times.  Tuesday  night  he  sat 
down  with  a  wild  idea  of  answering  it,  but  his 
inner  sense  of  delicacy  restrained  him.  She 
had  put  the  matter  in  such  a  light,  practically 
throwing  herself  on  his  generosity,  his  love 
for  her,  that  he  realized  that  to  write  again 
would  only  make  her  duty  harder.  And  in 
the  intervals  when  Harvey's  passionate  im- 
patience gave  way  to  calmer  reflection,  he 
knew  that  he  loved  her  the  better  for  her 
strength. 

Wednesday  and  Thursday  passed.  Harvey's 
complete  recovery  was  slow,  though  he  worked 
hard  at  his  desk;  even  the  news  of  Jim's  vic- 
tory seemed  to  have  little  effect  on  him.  He 
was  listless,  his  work  contained  little  of  the 
old  vigor  and  energy,  and  there  were  rings 
under  his  eyes.  Jim  said  nothing,  but  he  had 
not  been  blind  to  Katherine's  tell-tale  interest 
when  Harvey  was  found.  He  knew  Harvey, 
even  better  than  the  younger  man  suspected. 
From  the  nature  of  his  work  and  experience 
Jim  had  learned  to  read  human  nature,  —  prob- 
ably that  faculty  had  much  to  do  with  his  suc- 
cess,— and  the  fact  that  in  Harvey's  make-up 


The  Surrender  325 

were  certain  of  his  own  rugged  characteris- 
tics had  drawn  him  to  Harvey  more  than  to 
any  other  man  of  his  acquaintance:  this  in 
addition  to  the  one  touch  of  sentiment  that 
had  influenced  Jim's  whole  career,  for  he  could 
not  forget  that  Harvey  was  the  son  of  the 
only  woman  he  had  ever  loved. 

Thursday  evening  Jim  sat  down  to  his  soli- 
tary dinner  with  a  feeling  of  utter  loneliness. 
There  came  back  to  him,  clearer  than  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  all  the  yearning,  the 
unrest,  the  self -abandon  of  his  love  for  Ethel 
Harvey.  The  years  had  rounded  him,  and 
built  up  in  him  a  sturdy  character;  he  stood 
before  the  world  a  man  of  solid  achievement, 
calm,  successful,  satisfied.  His  spreading  in- 
terests, his  intricate  affairs,  the  prestige  and 
credit  of  his  position — these  had  combined  to 
concentrate  his  energies,  to  hold,  day  and 
night,  his  thoughts,  crowding  out  alike  dreams 
and  memories.  He  had  given  the  best  of  his 
life,  not  for  gold,  but  for  power,  credit,  influ- 
ence. The  struggle  had  fascinated  him,  he 
had  risen  to  each  new  emergency  with  a  thrill 
at  the  thought  of  grappling  with  men  of  mettle, 
of  calling  into  play  each  muscle  of  the  system 


326  The  Short  Line   War 

he  had  organized.  But  as  he  left  the  table 
and  walked  with  unelastic  step  into  the  library, 
there  rose  before  him  the  picture  of  Harvey, 
weak  and  pale  but  filled  nevertheless  with  the 
vigor  of  youthful  blood,  stretched  on  a  couch, 
while  over  him,  gentle  in  her  womanhood, 
Katherine  was  bending.  As  the  scene  came 
back  he  again  moved  through  it,  and  again, 
as  he  turned  to  go,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
her  eyes,  and  he  saw  in  them  the  look  that 
no  man  can  view  without  a  prayer,  a  look  that 
melted  through  the  crust  of  years  and  left 
Jim's  heart  bare. 

It  was  dark  in  the  library,  but  he  cared  not. 
He  sat  before  the  wide  table  staring  at  the 
shadows.  For  the  first  time  in  many  years  he 
was  far  from  stocks  and  from  the  world.  He 
tried  madly,  desperately,  then  humbly,  to  fight 
down  the  other  picture  —  that  of  the  only  other 
woman  whose  eyes  had  reached  his  heart ;  but 
the  struggle  was  too  great,  and  with  head 
buried  on  his  outstretched  arms  Jim  gave  way 
to  a  flood  burst  of  memory  that  poured  out 
years  in  moments. 

Some  time  later  he  raised  his  head.  Habits 
so  fixed  as  Jim's  will  assert  themselves  even 


The  Surrender  327 

in  moments  of  stress,  and  now  what  was  almost 
an  instinct  urged  him  to  such  action  as  would 
even  slightly  ease  the  strain.  Harvey  was  his 
hope,  Harvey's  happiness  and  Katherine's 
was  all  that  appealed  to  him  now,  and  so  with 
set  teeth  he  rang  for  his  carriage.  Jim  Weeks 
had  faced  many  problems,  he  had  gone  lightly 
into  many  battles,  but  never  before  had  his 
energies  been  so  set  upon  a  single  object. 

Jim  drove  direct  to  Harvey's  rooms,  and, 
finding  them  dark,  walked  in,  lighted  up,  drew 
down  the  curtains,  and  sank  wearily  into  the 
easy-chair.  He  was  by  this  time  near  his 
old  self,  save  for  the  wrinkles  about  his  eyes, 
which  seemed  deeper.  He  had  not  before 
been  in  Harvey's  quarters,  and  he  looked  about 
with  almost  nervous  interest.  Later  he  picked 
up  the  evening  paper  and  tried  to  read,  but 
dropped  it  and  took  to  walking  about  the  room. 
On  the  mantel  was  the  kodak  picture  of  Kath- 
erine,  and  he  paused  to  look  at  it.  It  so  held 
his  interest  that  he  did  not  hear  the  door  open 
five  minutes  later. 

Harvey  closed  the  door  and  threw  his  over- 
coat on  a  chair. 

"Beg  pardon  for  keeping    you  waiting,"  he 


328  The  Short  Line   War 

said,  apparently  not  surprised  at  Jim's  pres- 
ence. "  If  I  had  known  you  were  here,  I'd  have 
come  back  earlier.  Been  out  for  a  little  ex- 
ercise." 

Jim  nodded,  and  turned  back  to  the  photo- 
graph. 

"  This  is  Porter's  daughter,  isn't  it  ? "  he  said 
abruptly. 

With  a  brief  "Yes,"  Harvey  threw  himself 
into  a  chair  by  the  table.  After  a  moment  Jim 
turned  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  mantel, 
looking  at  Harvey,  then  he  crossed  over  and 
sat  down. 

"West,  I've  been  thinking  of  you  to-night, 
and  I've  come  over  to  have  a  talk  with  you. 
You  are  in  bad  shape.  You  show  it  plain 
enough.  If  it  were  any  other  time,  if  we 
weren't  already  so  far  behind  with  our  work, 
I'd  send  you  off  somewhere  for  a  vacation. 
You  need  it." 

Harvey  smiled  wearily. 

"A  fellow  can't  expect  to  get  over  a  row 
like  that  in  a  day  or  so.  I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
week." 

"Look  here,"  Jim  leaned  back  and  looked 
squarely  at  Harvey,  "  why  don't  you  own  up  ? 


The  Surrender  329 

Why  don't  you  tell  me  about  it  ?  It's  —  it's  her, 
isn't  it  ?  "  indicating  the  photograph. 

Harvey  returned  Jim's  gaze  with  an  expres- 
sion of  some  surprise,  then  he  leaned  forward 
and  looked  at  the  carpet,  resting  his  elbows  on 
his  knees. 

"  Of  course,"  Jim  continued,  "  it  isn't  exactly 
in  my  line,  but  I  might  be  able  to  bring  some 
common  sense  to  bear  on  it.  When  a  man's 
bothered  about  a  girl,  he's  likely  to  need  a  little 
common  sense.  I  understand  —  of  course  —  if 
you'd  rather  not  talk  about  it  — " 

There  was  a  long  silence.      Harvey  broke  it. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  you're  right.  I 
haven't  known  just  what  to  do.  Things  are 
pretty  much  mixed  up.  You  want  me  to  tell 
you  ? " 

Jim  nodded. 

"  It  isn't  that  she  doesn't  care  for  me.  I 
think  she  does.  You  know  she's  always 
honest.  But  somehow  it  strikes  her  as  a 
question  of  duty.  She  loves  her  father,  and 
she  feels  that  she  hasn't  been  loyal  to  him. 
I've  written  to  her,  —  I've  used  up  all  my  ar- 
guments, —  but  she  puts  it  in  such  a  way  that  I 
can't  say  another  word  without  actually  hurting 


330  The  Short  Line  War 

her.  To  her  mind  it's  just  a  plain  case  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  that  settles  it.  You  know  she's 
that  kind  of  a  girl." 

"Yes,"  said  Jim,  "  I  suppose  she  is." 

"  I've  gone  over  and  over  it  until  I'm  all  at 
sea.  I  don't  seem  to  have  a  grip  on  myself.  I 
can't  write  to  her  or  go  to  see  her.  It  would 
be  simply  dishonorable  after  the  way  she  has 
talked  to  me  —  and  written."  Harvey  rose  and 
walked  to  the  mantel,  resting  his  elbows  on  it 
and  looking  at  the  photograph. 

"When  was  it?"  asked  Jim.  "That  day  in 
theOakwood  Club?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  know  she  loves  you  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  I  knew  it." 

"Well,  then,  I  do." 

At  this  Harvey  turned,  but  Jim's  face  was 
quiet. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  You  say  there  is  nothing 
in  the  way  but  her  father?" 

"That  is  all  I  know  about." 

"  I  can  ease  your  mind  on  that.  I  had  a  short 
talk  with  Porter  Tuesday,  and  I  think  he's 
a  little  ashamed  of  himself.  He  told  me  that 
he  was  against  that  kidnapping  scheme  and 


The  Surrender  331 

that  he  has  broken  with  McNally.  Probably 
Miss  Porter  has  had  a  talk  with  him  by  this 
time,  —  I  don't  see  how  they  could  help  it,  — 
and  if  she  has,  I  guess  some  of  her  ideas  have 
changed  a  little." 

Jim  paused,  but  as  Harvey  stood  facing  the 
mantel  without  speaking  he  went  on  :  — 

"  There's  just  one  thing  for  you  to  do,  West. 
You  go  down  there  and  begin  all  over  again. 
If  she's  got  any  pride,  she  won't  write  to  you  — 
Why,  man,  any  girl  would  expect —  You've 
got  to  !  Understand  ?  You've  got  to  !  " 

As  he  spoke  Jim  rose  and  stood  erect ;  then, 
as  Harvey  still  was  silent,  he  took  to  pacing  the 
floor.  Harvey  was  looking,  not  at  the  picture, 
but  through  it  into  a  calm  summer  night  on 
the  river,  when  Katherine  had  given  him  that 
first  glimpse  of  herself,  the  woman  he  loved 
and  was  always  to  love.  He  saw  her  beside 
him  in  the  trap,  watching  with  bright,  eager 
eyes  the  striding  bays,  and  later  tugging  at  his 
watch-fob.  He  saw  her  in  the  gray  twilight, 
bending  down  over  him  and  saying  in  that  low 
thrilling  voice:  "We  don't  know  what  may 
happen.  We  only  know  what  is  right  for  us 
now."  As  he  slowly  turned  around  he  felt 


332  The  Short  Line  War 

a  mist  come  over  his  eyes  and  he  was  not 
ashamed.  Jim  stopped  and  stood  looking  at 
him.  Harvey  asked  simply,  — 

"  Can  you  spare  me  over  Sunday  ? " 

"You'd  better  go  to-morrow." 

"  But  the  work  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  that,"  —  Jim's 
voice  was  gruff,  — "  you  take  the  morning 
train.  Don't  come  back  till  you're  ready." 

Their  eyes  met  in  embarrassed  silence,  then 
Harvey  sat  at  the  table  and  wrote  a  few  words. 

"Will  you  have  your  man  send  that  to- 
night?" he  asked,  handing  it  to  Jim.  "It's 
a  telegram." 

Jim  took  it,  slowly  folded  it,  and  put  it  into 
his  pocket.  He  reached  for  his  coat,  and 
Harvey  helped  him  put  it  on.  Several  times 
Jim  started  to  speak,  but  it  was  not  until  one 
glove  was  on  and  his  hat  in  his  hand  that  he 
got  it  out :  — 

"  I'll  tell  you,  West,  I  —  A  man  learns  some- 
thing from  experience,  one  way  or  another. 
I've  known  what  such  things  are —  I  know 
what  it  means  to  love  a  woman,  and  to  try 
to  live  without  her."  He  suddenly  gripped 
Harvey's  hand,  holding  it  for  a  moment  with 


The  Surrender  333 

a  silent,  nervous  pressure,  and  Harvey  felt  the 
perspiration  on  his  palm.  "  I  made  a  mistake, 
West,  and  I've  paid  for  it — I'm  paying  for  it 
now.  If  I  hadn't —  If  I  had  made  it  right,  she 
would  have  been  —  you  would  have  —  "  The 
words  seemed  to  choke  him,  and  with  a  strange 
expression  he  loosened  his  grip  and  started 
toward  the  door.  Halfway  he  turned.  As  he 
stood  there,  stalwart  yet  humble,  a  new  pathos 
crept  into  his  features.  "  West,  a  man  doesn't 
get  much  in  this  world  if  he  waits  for  things 
to  straighten  themselves  out.  Good  night." 

Before  Harvey  could  recover  from  a  certain 
awkwardness,  Jim  had  gone.  He  could  hear 
the  heavy  tread  on  the  stairs.  Then  came  the 
slam  of  a  carriage  door,  and  he  knew  that  Jim 
was  going  back  to  the  big,  empty  house. 

The  next  morning,  Friday,  Harvey  took  the 
early  train  for  Truesdale.  He  picked  up  a 
carriage  at  the  station  and  drove  rapidly  out 
to  Porter's  home.  From  the  porte-cochere  he 
hastened  to  the  door,  rang  the  bell,  and  asked 
for  her.  In  the  wide  hall  he  stood,  coat  still 
buttoned,  hat  in  hand,  looking  eagerly  up  the 
stairway.  In  a  moment  she  appeared  (he  could 
not  know  that  she  had  been  watching  for  him), 


334  The  Short  Line  War 

coming  slowly  down  the  stairs,  not  hesitating, 
but  holding  back  with  a  touch  of  the  old  dig- 
nity. For  the  moment  her  beauty,  her  strong 
womanhood,  gave  Harvey  a  sense  of  awe,  and 
he  stood  looking  up  at  her,  not  knowing  that 
his  eyes  told  the  story.  And  then,  as  she 
stayed  on  the  lower  step,  a  quiet  assertiveness 
came  over  him,  and  he  stepped  forward. 

"Katherine,"  he  said,  and  extended  both 
hands. 

She  still  hesitated,  looking  at  him  with  eyes 
that  seemed  to  question,  to  read  his  as  if  search- 
ing for  something  she  feared  might  not  be 
there;  then  she  took  the  last  step  and  stood 
before  him. 

"  Katherine,"  he  repeated,  but  stopped  again, 
for  now  her  eyes  were  shining  on  him  with  a 
look  that  thrilled  and  exalted  him,  and  with 
sudden  joy  in  his  heart  he  drew  her  to  him. 


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